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ALTEMUS ’ YOUNG PEOPLE'S LIBRARY 


BLACK BEAUTY 


THE 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A HORSE 


BY 


ANNA SEWELL 


With Fifty Illustrations 

iJUN 191897 ] 


*4 4*^ 


'V' 


PHILADELPHIA 


IN UNIFORM STYLE 


Copiously Illustrated 

THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS 

Alice’s adventures in wonderland 

THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS & WHAT ALICE FOUND THERE 

ROBINSON CRUSOE 

THE CHILD’S STORY OF THE BIBLE 

THE CHILD’S LIFE OF CHRIST 

LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS OF THE UNITED STATES 
THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON 
THE FABLES OF jESOP 

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS AND THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA 
MOTHER GOOSE’S RHYMES, JINGLES AND TALES 
EXPLORATION AND ADVENTURE IN THE FROZEN SEAS 
THE STORY OF DISCOVERY AND EXPLORATION IN AFRICA 

Gulliver’s travels 

ARABIAN NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS 
WOOD’S NATURAL HISTORY 

A CHILD’S HISTORY OF ENGLAND, by CHARLES DICKENS 
BLACK BEAUTY, by ANNA SEWELL 


Price 50 Cents Each 


Henry Altemus, Philadelphia 


Copyright 1897 by Henry Altemus 



TO 

MY DEAR AND HONORED 

MOTHER, 

WHOSE LIFE, NO LESS THAN HER PEN, 

HAS BEEN DEVOTED TO THE WELFARE OF OTHERS 

THIS LITTLE BOOK 

IS AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED. 


( v) 


“He was a perfect horseman, and never lost his temper with his 
horse, talking to and reasoning with it if it shied or bolted, as if it 
had been a rational being, knowing that from the fine organization of 
the animal, a horse, like a child, will get confused by panic fear, 
which is only increased by punishment .” — Charles Kingsley. 


(vi) 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. 

PART I. 

My Early Home, 




PAGE 

9 

. 12 
. 16 
. 20 
. 23 

. 27 

qo 

II. 

The Hunt, .... 




III. 

My Breaking In, 




IV. 

Birtwick Park, 




V. 

A Fair Start, . 




VI. 

Liberty, 




VII. 

Ginger, 




• uv 

. 35 

. 39 

. 43 

. 50 

. 53 

VIII. 

Ginger’s Story continued, 




IX. 

Merrylegs, • 




X. 

A Talk in the Orchard, 




XI. 

Plain Speaking, 




XII. 

A Stormy Day, . 




XIII. 

The Devil’s Trade Mark, 




. 57 

. 59 

. 62 
05 

XIV. 

James Howard, 




XV. 

The Old Ostler, 




XVI. 

The Fire, 




• uo 

. 69 

. 73 

77 

XVII. 

John Manly’s Talk, 




XVIII. 

Going for the Doctor, . 




XIX. 

Only Ignorance, 




• • 1 

79 

XX. 

Joe Green, • 




• 1 3 

. 83 

XXI. 

The Parting, . 





PART II. 


XXII. Earlshall, 

XXIII. A Strike for Liberty, . 


( vii ) 


87 

91 


viii 

CHAPTER 

XXIV. 

CONTENTS . 

The Lady Anne, or a Runaway Horse, 

PAGE 

94 

XXV. 

Reuben Smith, .... 


100 

XXVI. 

How it Ended, . 


103 

XXVII. 

Ruined, and Going Down-hill, 


106 

XXVIII. 

A Job Horse and his Drivers, 


109 

XXIX. 

Cockneys, 


113 

XXX. 

A Thief, 


119 

XXXI. 

A Humbug, 


122 

XXXII. 

PART III. 

A Horse Fair, .... 


126 

XXXIII. 

A London Cab Horse, 

• • • 

131 

XXXIV. 

An Old War Horse, . 

• • • 

134 

XXXV. 

Jerry Barker, .... 

• • • 

141 

XXXVI. 

The Sunday Cab, 

. . . 

147 

XXXVII. 

The Golden Rule, 

• • •' 

152 

XXXVIII. 

Dolly and a Real Gentleman, 

• . • 

155 

XXXIX. 

Seedy Sam, 


159 

XL. 

Poor Ginger, .... 

• • • 

162 

XLI. 

The Butcher, . . . 


165 

XL1I. 

The Election, .... 

• . • 

168 

XLIII. 

A Friend in Need, . 

• • •. 

170 

XLIV. 

Old Captain and His Successor, 

• 

174 

XLV. 

Jerry’s New Year, . 

- 

178 

XLVI. 

PART IV. 

Jakes and the Lady, 


185 

XLVII. 

Hard Times, .... 

• • • 

188 

XLVIII. 

Farmer Thorouhgood and his 
Willie, 

Grandson 

192 

XLIX. 

My Last Home, .... 

. 

196 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


PART I. 


CHAPTER I. 

MY EARLY HOME. 

The first place that I can well remember was a large, 
pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it. Some 
shady trees leaned over it, and rushes and water-lilies 
grew at the deep end. Over the hedge on one side we 
looked into a plowed field, and on the other we looked 
over a gate at our master’s house, which stood by the 
roadside ; at the top of the meadow was a grove of fir-trees, 
and at the bottom a running brook, overhung by a steep 
bank. 

While I was young I lived upon my mother’s milk, as 
I could not eat grass. In the daytime I ran by her side, 
and at night I lay down close by her. When it was hot 
we used to stand" by the pond in the shade of the trees, 
and when it was cold we had a warm shed near the grove. 

As soon as I was old enough to eat grass, my mother 
used to go out to work in the daytime, and come back in 
the evening. 

There were six young colts in the meadow besides me ; 
they were older than I was ; some were nearly as large as 
grown-up horses. I used to run with them, and had great 
fun ; we used to gallop all together round and round the 

( 9 ) 


10 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


field, as hard as we could go. Sometimes we had rather 
rough play, for they would frequently bite and kick, as 
well as gailop. 

One day, when there was a good deal of kicking, my 
mother whinnied to me to come to her, and then she 
said: 

“ I wish you to pay attention to what I am going to say 
to you. The colts who live here are very good colts, but 
they are cart-horse colts, and, of course, they have not 
learned manners. You have been well-bred and well- 
born; your father has a great name in these parts, and 
your grandfather won the cup two years at the Newmar- 
ket races; your grandmother had the sweetest temper of 
any horse I ever knew, and I think you have never seen 
me kick or bite. I hope you will grow up gentle and 
good, and never learn bad ways; do your work with a 
good will, lift your feet up well when you trot, and never 
bite or kick even in piny.” 

I have never forgotten my mothers advice ; I knew she 
was a wise old horse, and our master thought a great deal 
of her. Her name was Duchess, but he called her Pet. 

Our master was a good, kind man. He gave us good 
food, good lodging and kind words ; he spoke as kindly 
to us as he did to his little children. We were all fond of 
him and my mother loved him very much. When she 
saw him at the gate she would neigh with joy, and trot up 
to him. He would pat and stroke her and say, “ Well, 
old Pet, and how is your little Darkie?” I was a dull 
black, so he called me Darkie; then he would give me a 
piece of bread, which was very good, and sometimes he 
brought a carrot for my mother. All the horses would 
come to him, but I think we were his favorites. My 
mother always took him to town on a market-day in a 
light gig. 

We had a ploughboy, Dick, who sometimes came into 
our field to pluck blackberries from the hedge. When he 


MY EARLY HOME. 


11 


had eaten all he wanted he would have what he called 



fun with the colts, throwing stones and sticks at them to 
make them gallop. We did not much mind him, for we 


12 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


could gallop off ; but sometimes a stone would hit and 
hurt us. 

One day he was at this game, and did not know that the 
master was in the next field, but he was there, watching 
what was going on; over the hedge he jumped in a snap, 
and catching Dick by the arm, he gave him such a box on 
the ear as made him roar with the pain and surprise. As 
soon as we saw the master we trotted up nearer to see 
what went on. 

“ Bad boy !” he said, “ bad boy ! to chase the colts. This 
is not the first time, nor the second, but it shall be the 
last. There — take your money and go home ; I shall not 
want you on my farm again.” So we never saw Dick any 
more. Old Daniel, the man who looked after the horses, 
was just as gentle as our master ; so we were well off. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE HUNT. 

Before I was two years old a circumstance happened 
which I have never forgotten. It was early in the spring ; 
there had been a little frost in the night, and a light mist 
still hung over the woods and meadows. I and the other 
colts were feeding at the lower part of the field when we 
heard, quite in the distance, what sounded like the cry 
of dogs. The oldest of the colts raised his head, pricked 
his ears and said, “ There are the hounds !” and immedi- 
ately cantered off, followed by the rest of us, to the upper 
part of the field, where we could look over the hedge and 
see several fields beyond. My mother and an old riding 
horse of our master’s were also standing near, and seemed 
to know all about it. 

“ They have found a hare,” said my mother, “ and if they 
come this way we shall see the hunt.” 


THE HUNT. 


13 


And soon the dogs were all tearing down the field of 
young wheat next to ours. I never heard such a noise as 
they made. They did not bark, nor howl, nor whine, but 
kept on a “ yo ! yo, o, o ! yo ! yo, o, o !” at the top of their 
voices. After them came a number of men on horseback, 
some of them in green coats, all galloping as fast as they 
could. The old horses snorted and looked eagerly after 
them, and we young colts wanted to be galloping with 
them, but they were soon away into the fields lower down ; 
here it seemed as if they had come to a stand ; the dogs 
left off barking and ran about every way with their noses 
to the ground. 

“ They have lost the scent,” said the old horse ; “ per- 
haps the hare will get off.” 

“ What hare ?” I said. 

“ Oh, I don’t know what hare ; likely enough it may be 
one of our own hares out of the woods ; any hare they 
can find will do for the dogs and men to run after;” and 
before long the dogs began their “ yo ! yo, o, o !” again, and 
back they came all together at full speed, making straight 
for our meadow at the part where the high bank and hedge 
overhang the brook. 

“Now we shall see the hare,” said my mother; and just 
then a hare, wild with fright, rushed by and made for the 
woods. On came the dogs ; they burst over the bank, leapt 
the stream and came dashing across the field, followed by 
the huntsmen. Six or eight men leaped their horses clean 
over, close upon the dogs. The hare tried to get through 
the fence; it was too thick, and she turned sharp around 
to make for the road, but it was too late; the dogs were 
upon her with their wild cries; we heard one shriek, and 
that was the end of her. One of the huntsmen rode up 
and whipped off the dogs, who would soon have torn her 
to pieces. He held her up by the leg, torn and bleeding, 
and all the gentlemen seemed well pleased. 

As for me, I was so astonished that I did not at first see 


14 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


what was going on by the brook ; but when I did look, 
there was a sad sight ; two fine horses were down ; one was 
struggling in the stream, and the other was groaning on 
the grass. One of the riders was getting out of the water 
covered with mud, the other lay quite still. 

“ His neck is broken,” said my mother. 

“ And serves him right, too,” said one of the colts. 

I thought the same, but my mother did not join with us. 

“Well, no,” she said, “you must not say that; but 
though I am an old horse, and have seen and heard a great 
deal, 1 never yet could make out why men are so fond of 
this sport; they often hurt themselves, often spoil good 
horses, and tear up the fields, and all for a hare, or a fox, 
or a stag, that they could get more easily some other way; 
but we are only horses, and don’t know.” 

While my mother was saying this, we stood and looked 
on. Many of the riders had gone to the young man; but 
my master, who had been watching what was going on, 
was the first to raise him. His head fell back and his 
arms hung down, and every one looked very serious. 
There was no noise now ; even the dogs were quiet , and seemed 
to know that something was wrong. They carried him to our 
master's house. I heard afterwards that it was young 
George Gordon, the Squire’s only son, a fine, tall young 
man, and the pride of his family. 

They were now riding in all directions — to the doctor’s, 
to the farrier’s, and no doubt to Squire Gordon’s, to let 
him know about his son. When Mr. Bond, the farrier, 
came to look at the black horse that lay groaning on the 
grass, he felt him all over, and shook his head ; one of his 
legs was broken. Then some one ran to our master’s 
house and came back with a gun ; presently there was a 
loud bang and a dreadful shriek, and then all was still ; 
the black horse moved no more. 

My mother seemed much troubled; she said she had known 
that horse for years , and that his name was “ Rob Roy he 


THE HUNT. 


15 


was a good horse , and there was no vice in him. She never 
would go to that part of the field aftenvards. 



“ The Black Horse Moved no More. 


Not many days after, we heard the church-bell tolling 
for a long time, and looking over the gate, we saw a long 
strange black coach that was covered with black cloth and 


16 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


was drawn by black horses ; after that came another and 
another and another, and all were black, while the bell 
kept tolling, tolling. They were carrying young Gordon to 
the church-yard to bury him. He would never ride again. 
What they did with Rob Roy I never knew ; but Hwas all for 
one little hare . 


CHAPTER III. 

MY BREAKING IN. 

I was now beginning to grow handsome, my coat had 
grown fine and soft, and was bright black. I had one 
white foot and a pretty white star on my forehead. I was 
thought very handsome; my master would not sell me 
till I was four years old; he said lads ought not to work 
like men, and colts ought not to work like horses till they 
were quite grown up. 

When I was four years old, Squire Gordon came to look 
at me. He examined my eyes, my mouth, and my legs ; 
he felt them all down, and then I had to walk and trot 
and gallop before him ; he seemed to like me, and said, 
“ When he has been well broken in he will do very well.” 
My master said he would break me in himself, as he should 
not like me to be frightened or hurt, and he lost no time 
about it, for the next day he began. 

Every one may not know what breaking in is, therefore 
I will describe it. It means to teach a horse to wear a 
saddle and bridle, and to carry on his back a man, woman, 
or child; to go just the way they wish, and to go quietly. 
Besides this, he has to learn to wear a collar, a crupper, 
and a breeching, and to stand still while they are put on ; 
then to have a cart or a chaise fixed behind, so that he 
cannot walk or trot without dragging it after him ; and he 
must go fast or slow, just as his driver wishes. He must 



“Well, Old Pet, and How is Your Little Darkie?’- 
















MY BREAKING IN. 


17 


never start at what he sees, nor speak to other horses, nor 
bite, nor kick, nor have any will of his own, but always 
do his master’s will, even though he may be very tired or 
hungry ; but the worst of all is, when his harness is once 
on, he may neither jump for joy nor lie down for weari- 
ness. So you see this breaking in is a great thing. 

I had, of course, long been used to a halter and a head- 
stall, and to be led about in the fields and lanes quietly, 
but now I was to have a bit and bridle; my master gave 
me some oats as usual, and after a good deal of coaxing 
he got the bit into my mouth and the bridle fixed, but it 
was a nasty thing ! Those who have never had a bit in 
their mouths cannot think how bad it feels; a great piece 
of cold hard steel as thick as a man’s finger to be pushed 
into one’s mouth, between one’s teeth, and over one’s 
tongue, with the ends coming out at the corner of your 
mouth, and held fast there by straps over your head, under 
your throat, round your nose, and under your chin ; so 
that no way in the world can you get rid of the nasty hard 
thing; it is very bad! yes, very bad! at least I thought 
so ; but I knew my mother always wore one when she 
went out, and all horses did when they were grown up ; 
and so, what with the nice oats, and what with my mas- 
ter’s pats, kind words, and gentle ways, I got to wear my 
bit and bridle. 

Next came the saddle, but that was not half so bad ; my 
master put it on my back very gently, while old Daniel 
held my head ; he then made the girths fast under my 
body, patting and talking to me all the time ; then I had 
a few oats, then a little leading about; and this he did 
every day till I began to look for the oats and the saddle. 
At length, one morning, my master got on my back and 
rode me around the meadow on the soft grass. It cer- 
tainly did feel queer ; but I must say I felt rather proud 
to carry my master, and as he continued to ride me a little 
every day, I soon became accustomed to it. 

2 


18 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


The next unpleasant business was putting on the iron 
shoes ; that too was very hard at first. My master went 
with me to the smith’s forge, to see that I was not hurt or 
got any fright. The blacksmith took my feet in his hand, 
one after the other, and cut away some of the hoof. It did 
not pain me, so I stood still on three legs till he had done 
them all. Then he took a piece of iron the shape of my 
foot, and clapped it on, and drove some nails through the 
shoe quite into my hoof, so that the shoe was firmly on. 
My feet felt very stiff and heavy, but in time I got used 
to it. 

And now having got so far, my master went on to break 
me to harness ; there were more new things to wear. First, 
a stiff heavy collar just on my neck, and a bridle with great 
side-pieces against my eyes, called blinkers, and blinkers 
indeed they were, for I could not see on either side, but 
only straight in front of me ; next there w r as a small saddle 
with a nasty stiff strap that went right under my tail; that 
was the crupper. I hated the crupper — to have my long 
tail doubled up and poked through that strap was almost 
as bad as the bit. I never felt more like kicking, but of 
course I could not kick such a good master, and so in time 
I got used to everything, and could do my work as well as 
my mother. 

I must not forget to mention one part of my training, 
which I have always considered a very great advantage. 
My master sent me for a fortnight to a neighboring farm- 
er’s, who had a meadow which was skirted on one side by 
the railway. Here were some sheep and cows, and I was 
turned in among them. 

I shall never forget the first train that ran by. I was 
feeding quietly near the pales which separated the meadow 
from the railway, when I heard a strange sound at a dis- 
tance, and before I knew whence it came — with a rush and 
a clatter, and a puffing out of smoke — a long black train 
of something flew by, and was gone almost before I could 


MY BREAKING IN. 


19 


draw my breath. I turned and galloped to the further 
side of the meadow as fast as I could go, and there I stood 
snorting with astonishment and fear. In the course of the 
day many other trains went by, some more slowly ; these 
drew up at the station close by, and sometimes made an 
awful shriek and groan before they stopped. I thought 
it very dreadful, but the cows went on eating very quietly, 
and hardly raised their heads as the black, frightful thing 
came puffing and grinding past. For the first few days 
I could not feed in peace; but as I found that this terrible 
creature never came into the field, or did me any harm, 
I began to disregard it, and very soon I cared as little 
about the passing of a train as the cows and sheep did. 

Since then I have seen many horses much alarmed and 
restive at the sight or sound of a steam engine ; but, thanks 
to my good master’s care, I am as fearless at railway sta- 
tions as in my own stable. 

Now if any one wants to break in a young horse well, 
that is the way. 

My master often drove me in double harness, with my 
mother, because she was steady and could teach me how 
to go better than a strange horse. She told me the better 
I behaved the better I should be treated, and that it was 
wisest always to do my best to please my master ; “ But,” 
said she, “there are a great many kinds of men; there are 
good, thoughtful men, like our master, that any horse may 
be proud to serve ; and there are bad, cruel men, who never 
ought to have a horse or a dog to call their own. Besides, 
there are a great many foolish men, vain, ignorant and 
careless, who never trouble themselves to think ; these spoil 
more horses than all, just for want of sense; they don’t 
mean it, but they do it for all that. I hope you will fall 
into good hands ; but a horse never knows who may buy 
him, or who may drive him ; it is all a chance for us ; but 
still I say, do your best wherever it is, and keep up your 
good name.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


BIRTWICK PARK. 

At this time I used to stand in the stable, and my coat 
was brushed every day till it shone like a rook’s wing. It 
was early in May, when there came a man from Squire 
Gordon’s, who took me away to the Hall. My master said, 
“ Good-bye, Darkie, be a good horse and always do your 
best.” I could not say “ Good-bye,” so I put my nose into 
his hand ; he patted me kindly, and I left my first home. 
As I lived some years with Squire Gordon I may as well 
tell something about the place. 

Squire Gordon’s park skirted the village of Birtwick. It 
was entered by a large iron gate, at which stood the first 
lodge, and then you trotted along on a smooth road be- 
tween clumps of large old trees; then another lodge and 
another gate, which brought you to the house and the 
gardens. Beyond this lay the home paddock, the old or- 
chard and the stables. There was accommodation for 
many horses and carriages, but I need only describe the 
stable into which I was taken ; this was very roomy, with 
four good stalls ; a large swinging window opened into the 
yard, which made it pleasant and airy. 

The first stall was a large square one, shut in behind 
with a wooden gate. The others were common stalls, good 
stalls, but not nearly so large ; it had a low rack for hay 
and a low manger for corn ; it was called a loose box, be- 
cause the horse that was put into it was not tied up, but 
left loose, to do as he liked. It is a great thing to have a 
loose box. 

Into this fine box the groom put me ; it was clean, sweet 
( 20 ) 


BIRTWICK PARK. 


21 


and airy. I never was in a better box than that, and the 
sides were not so high but that I could see all that went on 
through the iron rails that were at the top. 

He gave me some very nice oats, he patted me, spoke 
kindly, and then went away. 



“My Coat was Brushed Every Day.” 


When I had eaten my oats I looked round. In the 
stall next to mine stood a little fat gray pony, with a thick 
mane and tail, a very pretty head and a pert little nose. 

1 put my head up to the iron rails at the top of my box 
and said, “How do you do? What is your name?” 

He turned round as far as his halter would allow, held 
up his head and said, “ My name is Merry legs. I am very 


22 


BLACK BE A UTY. 


handsome. I carry the young ladies on my back, and 
sometimes I take our mistress out in the low chaise. They 
think a great deal of me, and so does James. Are you 
going to live next door to me in the box ?” 

I said, “Yes.” 

“ Well, then,” he said, “ I hope you are good-tempered ; 
I do not like any one next door who bites.” 

Just then a horse’s head looked over from the stall be- 
yond ; the ears were laid back and the eyes looked rather 
ill-tempered. This was a tall chestnut mare, with a long, 
handsome neck ; she looked across to me and said : 

“ So you have turned me out of my box ; it is a very 
strange thing for a colt like you to come and turn a lady 
out of her own home.” 

“ I beg your pardon,” I said, “ I have turned no one 
out; the man who brought me put me here, and I had 
nothing to do with it ; and as to my being a colt, I am 
turned four years old and am a grown-up horse. I never 
had words yet with horse or mare, and it is my wish to 
live at peace.” 

“ Well,” she said, “ we shall see ; I do not want to have 
words with a young thing like you.” I said no more. 

In the afternoon, when she went out, Merry legs told me 
all about it. 

“ The thing is this,” said Merrylegs. “ Ginger has a 
habit of biting and snapping; that is why they call her 
Ginger, and when she was in the loose box she used to 
snap very ’much. One day she bit James in the arm and 
made it bleed, and so Miss Flora and Miss Jessie, who are 
very fond of me, were afraid to come into the stable. They 
used to bring me nice things to eat, an apple or a carrot 
or a piece of bread, but after Ginger stood in that box they 
dared not come, and I missed them very much. I hope 
they will now come again, if you do not bite or snap.” 

I told him I never bit anything but grass, hay and corn, 
and could not think what pleasure Ginger found in it. 


A FAIR START. 


23 


“ Well, I don’t think she does find pleasure,” said Mer- 
ry legs; “it is just a bad habit; she says no one was ever 
kind to her, and why should she not bite? Of course it 
is a very bad habit, but I am sure if all she says be true 
she must have been very ill-used before she came here. 
John does all he can to please her, and James does all he 
can, and our master never uses a whip if a horse acts 
right, so I think she might be good-tempered here; you 
see,” he said, with a wise look, “ I am twelve years old, I 
know a great deal, and I can tell you there is not a better 
place for a horse all around the country than this. John 
is the best groom that ever was ; he has been here fourteen 
years ; and you never saw such a kind boy as James is ; so 
that it is all Ginger’s own fault that she did not stay in 
that box.” 


CHAPTER V. 

A FAIR START. 

The name of the coachman was John Manly ; he had a 
wife and one little child, and they lived in the coachman’s 
cottage, very near the stables. 

The next morning he took me into the yard and gave 
me a good grooming, and just as I was going into my box, 
with my coat soft and bright, the Squire came in to look 
at me, and seemed pleased. “ John,” he said, “ I meant to 
have tried the new horse this morning, but I have other 
business. You may as well take him around after break- 
fast; go by the common and the High wood, and back by 
the water-mill and the river; that will show r his paces.” 

“ I will, sir,” said John. After breakfast he came and 
fitted me with a bridle. He was very particular in letting 
out and taking in the straps, to fit my head comfortably ; 
then he brought a saddle, but it was not broad enough for 


24 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


my back; he saw it in a minute and went for another, 
which fitted nicely. He rode me first slowly, then a trot, 
then a canter, and when we were on the common he gave me 
a light touch with his whip, and we had a splendid gallop. 

“ Ho, ho ! my boy,” he said, as he pulled me up, “ you 
would like to follow the hounds, I think.” 

We came back through the park and met the Squire and 
Mrs. Gordon walking; they stopped and John jumped off. 

“ Well, John, how does he go?” 

“ First-rate, sir,” answered John; “he is as fleet as a 
deer, and has a fine spirit, too ; but the lightest touch of 
the rein wull guide him. Down at the end of the com- 
mon we met one of those travelling carts hung all over 
with baskets, rugs, and such like ; you know, sir, many 
horses will not pass those carts quietly; he just took a 
good look at it, and then went on as quiet and pleasant as 
could be. They were shooting rabbits near the High- 
wood, and a gun went off close by ; he pulled up a little 
and looked, but did not stir a step to right or left. I just 
held the rein steady and did not hurry him, and it’s my 
opinion he has not been frightened or ill-used while he 
was young.” 

“ That’s well,” said 'the Squire ; “ I will try him myself 
to-morrow.” 

The next day I was brought up for my master. I re- 
membered my mother’s counsel and my good old master’s, 
and I tried to do exactly what he wanted me to do. I 
found he was a very good rider, and thoughtful for his 
horse, too. When he came home, the lady was at the hall- 
door as he rode up. 

“ Well, my dear,” she said, “how do you like him?” 

“ He is exactly what John said,’’ he replied ; “ a pleas- 
anter creature I never wish to mount. What shall we call 
him ?” 

“ Would you like ‘ Ebony ?’ ” said she ; “ he is as black 
as ebony.” 


A FAIR START. 


25 


“ No, not Ebony.” 

“Will you cali him ‘Blackbird,’ like your uncle’s old 
horse ?” 

“ No, he is far handsomer than old Blackbird ever was.” 



“ A Travelling Cart Hung with Baskets.” 


“ Yes,” she said, “ he is really quite a beauty, and he 
has such a sweet, good-tempered face and such a fine, in- 
telligent eye — what do you say to calling him ‘ Black 
Beauty V ” 


26 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


“ Black Beauty — why, yes, I think that is a very good 
name. If you like, it shall be his name ;” and so it was. 

When John went into the stable he told James that the 
master and mistress had chosen a good sensible name for 
me, that meant something; not like Marengo, or Pegasus, 
or Abdallah. They both laughed, and James said, “ If it 
was not for bringing back the past, I should have named 
him ‘ Rob Roy,’ for I never saw two horses more alike.” 

“ That’s no wonder,” said John ; “ didn’t you know that 
farmer Gray’s old Duchess was the mother of them both ?” 

I had never heard that before ; and so poor Rob Roy who 
was killed at that hunt was my brother ! I did not wonder 
that my mother was so troubled. It seems that horses 
have no relations; at least they never know each other 
after they are sold. 

John seemed very proud of me; he used to make my 
mane and tail almost as smooth as a lady’s hair, and he 
would talk to me a great deal ; of course, I did not under- 
stand all he said, but I learned more and more to know 
what he meant , and what he wanted me to do. I grew very 
fond of him, he was so gentle and kind; he seemed to know just 
how a horse feels , and when he cleaned me he knew the tender 
places and the ticklish places; when he brushed my head , he 
went as carefully over my eyes as if they were his own , and never 
stirred up any ill-temper. 

James Howard, the stable boy, was just as gentle and 
pleasant in his way, so I thought myself well off. There 
was another man who helped in the yard, but he had very 
little to do with Ginger and me. 

A few days after this I had to go out with Ginger in the 
carriage. I wondered how we should get on together; 
but except laying her ears back when I was led up to her, 
she behaved very well. She did her work honestly, and 
did her full share, and I never wish to have a better part- 
ner in double harness. When we came to a hill, instead 
of slackening her pace she would throw her weight right 


LIBERTY. 


27 


into the collar, and pull away straight up. We had both 
the same sort of courage at our work, and John had oftener 
to hold us in than to urge us forward ; he never had to 
use the whip with either of us ; then our paces were much 
the same, and I found it very easy to keep step with her 
when trotting^ which made it pleasant, and master always 
liked it when we kept step well, and so did John. After 
we had been out two or three times together we grew quite 
friendly and sociable, which made me feel very much at 
home. 

As for Merrylegs, he and I soon became great friends ; 
he was such a cheerful, plucky, good-tempered little fellow, 
that he was a favorite with every one, and especially with 
Miss Jessie and Flora, who used to ride him about in the 
orchard, and have fine games with him and their little dog 
Frisky. 

Our master had two other horses that stood in another 
stable. One was Justice, a roan cob, used for riding, or 
for the luggage cart; the other was an old brown hunter, 
named Sir'Oliver; he was past work now, but was a great 
favorite with the master, who gave him the run of the 
park ; he sometimes did a little light carting on the estate, 
or carried one of the young ladies when they rode out 
with their father; for he was very gentle, and could be 
trusted with a child as well as Merrylegs. The cob was a 
strong, well-made, good-tempered horse, and we sometimes 
had a little chat in the paddock, but of course I could not 
be so intimate with him as with Ginger, who stood in the 
same stable. 


CHAPTER VI. 

LIBERTY. 

I was quite happy in my new place, and if there was 
one thing I missed, it must not be thought I was discon- 


28 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


tented ; all who had to do with me were good, and I had 
a light, airy stable and the best of food. What more could 
I want ? Why, liberty ! For three years and a half of 
my life I had had all the liberty I could wish for ; but now, 



week after week, month after month, and no doubt year 
after year, I must stand up in a stable night and day ex- 
cept when I am wanted, and then I must be just as steady 
and quiet as any old horse who has worked twenty years. 
Straps here and straps there, a bit in my mouth, and 
blinkers over my eyes. Now I am not complaining, for I 


LIBERTY. 


29 


know it must be so ; I only mean to say that for a young 
horse full of strength and spirits, who has been used to 
some large field or plain, where he can fling up his head, 
and toss up his tail and gallop away at full speed, then 
round and back again with a snort to his companions — I 
say it is hard never to have a bit more liberty to do as you 
like. Sometimes, when I have had less exercise than 
usual, I have felt so full of life and spring, that when John 
has taken me out to exercise I really could not keep quiet ; 
do what I would, it seemed as if I must jump, or dance, 
or prance, and many a good shake I know I must have 
given him, especially at the first; but he was always good 
and patient. 

“ Steady, steady, my boy,” he would say ; “ wait a bit, 
and we’ll have a good swing, and soon get the tickle out 
of your feet.” Then as soon as we were out of the village 
he would give me a few miles at a spanking trot, and then 
bring me back as fresh as before, only clear of the fidgets, 
as he called them. Spirited horses , when not enough exercised , 
are often called skittish , when it is only play; and some 
grooms will punish them, but our John did not; he knew 
it was only high spirits. Still, he had his own ways of 
making me understand by the tone of his voice or the 
touch of the rein. If he was very serious and quite deter- 
mined, I always knew it by his voice, and that had more 
power with me than anything else, for I was very fond 
of him. 

I ought to say that sometimes we had our liberty for a 
few hours ; this used to be on fine Sundays in the summer- 
time. The carriages never went out on Sundays, because 
the church was not far off. 

It was a great treat to us to be turned out into the home 
paddock or the old orchard ; the grass was so cool and soft 
to our feet, the air so sweet, and the freedom to do as we 
liked was so pleasant — to gallop, to lie down, and roll over 
on our backs, or to nibble the sweet grass. Then it was a 


30 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


very good time for talking, as we stood together under the 
shade of the large chestnut-tree. 



“Under the Chestnut Tree.” 


CHAPTER VII. 

GINGER. 

One day when Ginger and I were standing alone in the 
shade, we had a great deal of talk ; she wanted to know 
all about my bringing up and breaking in, and I told her. 
“ Well,” said she, “ if I had had your bringing up , I might 


GINGER. 


31 


have had as good a temper as you , but now I don’t believe I 
ever shall.” 

“ Why not?” I said. 

u Because it has all been so different with me,” she re- 
plied. “ I never had any one , horse or man, that was kind to 
me, or that I cared to please, for in the first place I was 
taken from my mother as soon as I was weaned and put 
with a lot of other young colts ; none of them cared for me, 
and I cared for none of them. There was no kind master like 
yours to look after me, and talk to me, and bring me nice 
things to eat. The man that had care of us never gave me a 
kind word in my life. I do not mean that he ill-used me, 
but he did not care for us one bit further than to see that 
we had plenty to eat and a shelter in the winter. A foot- 
path ran through our field, and very often the great boys 
passing through would fling stones to make us gallop. I 
was never hit, but one fine young colt was badly cut in 
the face, and I should think it would be a scar for life. 
We did not care for them, but of course it made us more 
wild, and we settled it in our minds that boys were our 
enemies. We had very good fun in the free meadows, gal- 
loping up and down and chasing each other round and 
round the field, then standing still under the shade of the 
trees. But when it came to breaking in, that was a bad 
time for me; several men came to catch me, and when at 
last they closed me in at one corner of the field, one caught 
me by the forelock, another caught me by the nose and 
held it so tight I could hardly draw my breath ; then an- 
other took my under jaw in his hard hand and wrenched 
my mouth open, and so by force they got on the halter 
and the bar into my mouth ; then one dragged me along 
by the halter, another flogging behind, and this was the 
first experience I had of men’s kindness— it was all force. 
They did not give me a chance to know what they wanted. 
I was high-bred and had a great deal of spirit, and was 
very wild, no doubt, and gave them, I dare say, plenty of 


32 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


trouble, but then it was dreadful to be shut up in a stall 
day after day instead of having my liberty, and I fretted 
and pined and wanted to get loose. You know yourself 
it’s bad enough when you have a kind master and plenty 
of coaxing, but there was nothing of that sort for me. 

“There was one — the old master, Mr. Ryder — who, I 
think, could soon have brought me round, and could have 
done anything with me; but he had given up all the hard 
part of the trade to his son and to another experienced 
man, and he only came at times to oversee. His son was 
a strong, tall, bold man ; they called him Samson, and he 
used to boast that he had never found a horse that could 
throw him. There was no gentleness in him, as there was 
in his father, but only hardness, a hard voice, a hard eye, 
a hard hand ; and I felt from the first that what he wanted 
was to wear all the spirit out of me, and just make me 
into a quiet, humble, obedient piece of horse-flesh. ‘Horse- 
flesh !’ Yes, that is all that he thought about,” and Ginger 
stamped her foot as if the very thought of him made her 
angry. Then she went on : — 

“ If I did not do exactly what he wanted, he would get 
put out and make me run around with that long rein in 
the training field till he had tired me out. I think he 
drank a good deal, and I am quite sure that the oftener 
he drank the worse he was for me. One day he had worked 
me hard in every way he could, and when I lay down I 
was tired and miserable and angry ; it all seemed so hard. 
The next morning he came for me early, and ran me round 
again for a long time. I had scarcely had an hour’s rest 
when he came again for me with a saddle and bridle and 
a new kind of bit. I could never quite tell how it came 
about; he had only just mounted me on the training 
ground, when something I did put him out of temper, 
and he chucked me hard with the rein. The new bit was 
very painful, and I reared up suddenly, which angered 
him still more, and he began to flog me. I felt my whole 



“Some Men Leaped their Horses Clean Over.” 











GINGER. 


33 


spirit set against him, and I began to kick and plunge and 
rear as I had never done before, and we had a regular 
fight; for a long time he stuck to the saddle and punished 



“Come Along, Lassie, Come Along.” 

me cruelly with his whip and spurs, but my blood was 
thoroughly up, and I cared for nothing he could do if only 
I could get him off. At last, after a terrible struggle, I 
threw him off backwards. I heard him fall heavily on the 
turf, and without looking behind me I galloped off to the 
3 


34 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


other end of the field ; there I turned round and saw my 
persecutor slowly rising from the ground and going into 
the stable. I stood under an oak tree and watched, but 
no one came to catch me. The time went on, and the sun 
was very hot ; the flies swarmed round me and settled on 
my bleeding flanks where the spurs had dug in. I felt 
hungry, for I had not eaten since the early morning, but 
there was not enough grass in that meadow for a goose to 
live on. I wanted to lie down and rest, but with the sad- 
dle strapped tightly on there was no comfort, and there 
was not a drop of water to drink. The afternoon wore on, 
and the sun got low. I saw the other colts led in, and I 
knew they were having a good feed. 

“ At last, just as the sun went down, I saw the old mas- 
ter come out with a sieve in his hand. He was a very fine 
old gentleman with quite white hair, but his voice was 
what I should know him by amongst a thousand. It was 
not high, nor yet low, but full and clear and kind, and when 
he gave orders it was so steady and decided that every one 
knew, both horses and men, that he expected to be obeyed. 
He came quietly along, now and then, shaking the oats 
about that he had in the sieve, and speaking cheerfully 
and gently to me : ‘ Come along, lassie, come along, lassie'; 
come along, come along.’ I stood still and let him come 
up; he held the oats to me, and I began to eat without 
fear; his voice took all my fear away. He stood by, pat- 
ting and stroking me while I was eating, and seeing the 
clots of blood on my side he seemed very vexed. ‘ Poor 
lassie! it was a bad business, a bad business!’ Then he 
quietly took the rein and led me to the stable; just at the 
door stood Samson. I laid my ears back and snapped at 
him. ‘ Stand back,’ said the master, ‘ and keep out of her 
way; you’ve done a bad day’s work for this filly.’ He 
growled out something about a vicious brute. £ Hark ye,’ 
said the father, 1 a bad-tempered man will never make a 
good-tempered horse. You’ve not learned your trade yet, 


GINGER'S STORY CONTINUED. 


35 


Samson.’ Then he led me into my box, took off the sad- 
dle and bridle with his own hands, and tied me up ; then 
he called for a pail of warm water and a sponge, took off 
his coat, and while the stable-man held the pail he sponged 
my sides a good while, so tenderly that I was sure he knew 
how sore and bruised they were. ‘ Whoa ! my pretty one,’ 
he said, ‘ stand still, stand still.’ His very voice did me good , 
and the bathing was very comfortable. The skin was so 
broken at the corners of my mouth that I could not eat 
the hay, the stalks hurt me. He looked closely at it, shook 
his head, and told the man to fetch a good bran mash and 
put some meal into it. How good that mash was ! and so 
soft and healing to my mouth. He stood by all the time 
I was eating, stroking me and talking to the man. ‘ If a 
high-mettled creature like this,’ said he, ‘ can’t be broken 
in by fair means, she will never be good for anything.’ 

“ After that he often came to see me, and when my 
mouth was healed, the other breaker, Job, they called 
him, went on training me ; he was steady and thoughtful, 
and I soon learned what he wanted.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 
ginger’s story continued. 

The next time that Ginger and I were together in the 
paddock she told me about her first place. 

“After my breaking in,’’ she said, “ I was bought by a 
dealer to match another chestnut horse. For some weeks 
he drove us together, and then we were sold to a fashion- 
able gentleman, and were sent up to London. I had been 
driven with a check-rein by the dealer, and I hated it worse 
than anything else ; but in this place we were reigned far 


36 


BLACK BE A UTY. 


tighter, the coachman and his master thinking we looked 
more stylish so. We were often driven about in the park 
and other fashionable places. You who never had a check- 
rein on don’t know what it is, but I can tell you it is 
dreadful. 

“ I like to toss my head about, and hold it as high as 
any horse ; but fancy now yourself, if you tossed your 
head up high, and were obliged to hold it there , and that for 
hours together , not able to move it at all except with a jerk still 
higher , your neck aching till you did not know how to bear it. 
Besides that, to have two bits instead of one, and mine was 
a sharp one ; it hurt my tongue and my jaw, and the blood 
from my tongue colored the froth that kept flying from 
my lips, as I chafed and fretted at the bits and rein. It 
was worse when we had to stand by the hour waiting for our 
mistress at some grand party or entertainment ; and if I fretted 
or stamped with impatience the whip was laid on. It was 
enough to drive one mad.” 

“Did not your master take any thought for you?” I 
said. 

“No,” said she, “he only cared to have a stylish turn- 
out, as they called it; I think he knew very little about 
horses; he left that to his coachman, who told him I had 
an irritable temper, that I had not been well broken to 
the check-rein, but I should soon get used to it ; but he 
was not the man to do it, for when I was in the stable, 
miserable and angry, instead of being soothed and quieted 
by kindness, I got only a surly word or a blow. If he had 
been civil I would have tried to bear it. I was willing to 
work, and ready to work hard, too ; but to be tormented 
for nothing but their fancies angered me. What right had 
they to make me suffer like that? Besides the soreness 
in my mouth and the pain in my neck, it always made my 
windpipe feel bad , and if I had stopped there long I know 
it would have spoiled my breathing ; but I grew more and 
more restless and irritable ; I could not help it ; and I be- 


GINGERS STORY CONTINUED. 


37 


gan to snap and kick when any one came to harness me; 
for this the groom beat me, and one day, as they had just 
buckled us into the carriage, and were straining my head 
up with that rein, I began to plunge and kick with all 
my might. I soon broke a lot of harness, and kicked 
myself clear ; so that was an end of that place. 

“ After this I was sent to Tattersall’s to be sold ; of course 



“The Bearing -Kein — Enough to Drive One Mad 


I could not be warranted free from vice, so nothing was 
said about that. My handsome appearance and good 
paces soon brought a gentleman to bid for me, and I was 
bought by another dealer; he tried me in all kinds of 
wavs and" with different bits, and he soon found out what 
I could not bear. At last he drove me quite without a 


38 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


check-rein, and then sold me as a perfectly quiet horse to 
a gentleman in the country ; he was a good master, and I 
was getting on very well, but his old groom left him and a 
new one came. This man was as hard-tempered and hard- 
handed as Samson ; he always spoke in a rough , impatient 
voice, and if I did not move in the stall the moment he 
wanted me, he would hit me above the hocks with his 
stable broom or the fork, whichever he might have in his 
hand. Everything he did was rough, and I began to hate 
him; he wanted to make me afraid of him, but I was too 
high-mettled for that, and one day, when he had aggra- 
vated me more than usual, I bit him, which of course put 
him in a great rage, and he began to hit me about the 
head with a riding-whip. After that he never dared to 
come into my stall again ; either my heels or my teeth 
were ready for him, and he knew it. I was quite quiet 
with my master, but of course he listened to what the man 
said, and so I was sold again. 

“ The same dealer heard of me, and said he thought he 
knew one place where I should do well. ‘ ’Twas a pity/ 
he said, 1 that such a fine horse should go to the bad for 
want of a real good chance,’ and the end of it was that I 
came here not long before you did ; but I had then made 
up my mind that men were my natural enemies and that 
I must defend myself. Of course it is very different here, 
but who knows how long it will last ? I wish I could 
think about things as you do, but I can’t, after all I have 
gone through.” 

“ Well,” I said, “ I think it would be a real shame if you 
were to bite or kick John or James.” 

“ I don’t mean to,” she said, “ while they are good to 
me. I did bite James once pretty sharp, but John said, 
‘ Try her with kindness,’ and instead of punishing me as 
I expected, James came to me with his arm bound up, 
and brought me a bran mash and stroked me ; and I have 
never snapped at him since, and I won’t either.” 


MERRYLEGS. 


39 


I was sorry for Ginger, but of course I knew very little 
then, and I thought most likely she made the worst of it; 
however, I found that as the weeks went on she grew much 
more gentle and cheerful, and had lost the watchful, defi- 
ant look that she used to turn on any strange person that 
came near her; and one day James said, “I do believe 
that mare is getting fond of me ; she quite whinnied after 
me this morning when I had been rubbing her forehead.” 

“ Ay, ay, Jim, ’tis ‘ the Birtwick balls, ’ ” said John ; “ she’ll 
be as good as Black Beauty by and by ; kindness is all the 
physic she wants, poor thing !” Master noticed the change 
too, and one day when he got out of the carriage and came 
to speak to us, as he often did, he stroked her beautiful 
ne£k. “Well, my pretty one, well, how do things go with 
you now? You are a good bit happier than when you 
came to us, I think.” 

She put her nose up to him in a friendly, trustful way, 
while he rubbed it gently. 

“We shall make a cure of her, John,” he said. 

“Yes, sir, she’s wonderfully improved ; she’s not the 
same creature that she was ; it’s 1 the Birtwick balls ,’ sir,” 
said John, laughing. 

This was a little joke of John’s; he used to say that a 
regular course of “ the Birtwick horse-balls ” would cure al- 
most any vicious horse; these balls, he said, were made up 
of patience and gentleness, firmness and petting ; one pound of 
each to be mixed up with a pint of common-sense , and given to 
the horse every day . 


CHAPTER IX. 

MERRYLEGS. 

Mr. Bloomfield, the Vicar, had a large family of boys 
and girls; sometimes they used to come and play with 


40 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


Miss Jessie and Flora. One of the girls was as old as Miss 
Jessie; two of the boys were older, and there were several 
little ones. When they came there was plenty of work for 
Merry legs, for nothing pleased them so much as getting 
on him by turns and riding him all about the orchard and 
the home paddock, and this they would do by the hour 
together. 

One afternoon he had been out with them a long time, 
and when James brought him in and put on his halter, he 
said : — 

“ There, you rogue, mind how you behave yourself, or 
we shall get into trouble.” 

“ What have you been doing, Merrylegs?” I asked. 

“ Oh !” said he, tossing his little head, “ I have only been 
giving those young people a lesson ; they did not know 
when they had had enough, so I just pitched them off back- 
wards; that was the only thing they could understand.” 

“ What?” said I, “ you threw the children off? I thought 
you did know better than that! Did you throw Miss Jes- 
sie or Miss Flora ?” 

He looked very much offended, and said — 

“Of course not; I would not do such a thing for the 
best oats that ever came into the stable; why, I am as 
careful of our young ladies as the master could be, and as 
for the little ones, it is I who teach them to ride. When 
they seem frightened or a little unsteady on my back, I go 
as smooth and as quiet as an old pussy when she is after 
a bird; and when they are all right I go on again faster, 
you see, just to use them to it; so don’t you trouble your- 
self preaching to me ; I am the best friend and the best rid- 
ing-master those children have. It is not them, it is the 
boys; boys,” said he, shaking his mane, “ are quite differ- 
ent; they must be broken in, as we were broken in when 
we were colts, and just be taught what’s what. The other 
children had ridden me about for nearly two hours, and 
then the boys thought it was their turn ; and so it was, and I 


MERRY LEGS. 


41 



“Merrylegs.” 

Boys , you see, think a horse or pony is like a steam engine or a 
threshing machine , and can go as long and as fast as they 
please ; they never think that a pony can get tired, or have 
any feelings ; so as the one who was whipping me could 
not understand, I just rose up on my hind legs and let 
him slip off behind — that was all ; he mounted me again, 


was quite agreeable. They rode me by turns, and I galloped 
them about, up and down the fields and all about the or- 
chard, for a good hour. They had each cut a great hazel 
stick for a riding-whip, and laid it on a little too hard ; but 
I took it in good part, till at last I thought we had had 
enough, so I stopped two or three times by way of a hint. 


42 


BLACK BE A UTY. 


and I did the same. Then the other boy got up, and as 
soon as he began to use his stick I laid him on the grass, 
and so on, till they were able to understand, that was all. 
They are not bad boys; they don’t wish to be cruel. I 
like them very well; but you see I had to give them a les- 
son. When they brought me to James and told him, I 
think he was very angry to see such big sticks. He said 
they were only fit for drovers or gypsies, and not for young 
gentlemen.” 

“ If I had been you,” said Ginger, “ I would have given 
those boys a good kick, and that would have given them 
a lesson.” 

“No doubt you would,” said Merrylegs; “but then I 
am not quite such a fool (begging your pardon) as to anger 
our master or make James ashamed of me ; besides, those 
children are under my charge when they are riding; I tell 
you they are entrusted to me. Why, only the other day 
I heard our master say to Mrs. Bloomfield, ‘ My dear 
madam, you need not be anxious about the children ; my 
old Merrylegs will take as much care of them as you or I 
could; I assure you I would not sell that pony for any 
money, he is so perfectly good-tempered and trustworthy ;’ 
and do you think I am such an ungrateful brute as to for- 
get all the kind treatment I have had here for five years, 
and all the trust they place in me, and turn vicious, be- 
cause a couple of ignorant boys used me badly ? No, no ! 
you never had a good place where they were kind to you! 
and so you don’t know, and I am sorry for you ; but I 
can tell you good 'places make good horses. I wouldn’t vex 
our people for anything ; I love them, I do,” said Merry- 
legs, and he gave a low “ho, ho, ho,” through his nose, as 
he used to do in the morning when he heard James’s foot- 
step at the door. 

“ Besides,” he went on, “ if I took to kicking, where 
should I be? Why, sold off in a jiffy, and no character, 
and I might find myself slaved about under a butcher’s 


A TALK IN THE ORCHARD. 


43 


boy, or worked to death at some seaside place where no 
one cared for me, except to find out how fast I could go, 
or be flogged along in some cart with three or four great 
men in it going out for a Sunday spree, as I have often 
seen in the place I lived in before I came here. No,” said 
he, shaking his head, “ I hope I shall never come to that.” 


CHAPTER X. 

A TALK IN THE ORCHARD. 

Ginger and I were not of the regular tall carriage-horse 
breed, we had more of racing blood in us. We stood 
about fifteen and a half hands high ; we were, therefore, 
just as good for riding as we were for driving, and our 
master used to say that he disliked either horse or man 
that could do but one thing; and, as he did not want to 
show off* in London parks, he preferred a more active and 
useful kind of horse. As for us, our greatest pleasure was 
when we were saddled for a riding party ; the master on 
Ginger, the mistress on me, and the young ladies on Sir 
Oliver and Merrylegs. It was so cheerful to be trotting 
and cantering all together, that it always put us in high 
spirits. I had the best of it, for I always carrid the mis- 
tress; her weight was little, her voice was sweet, and her 
hand was so light on the rein that I was guided almost 
without feeling it. 

Oh ! if people knew what a comfort to horses a light hand is, 
and how it keeps a good mouth and a good temper, they 
surely would not chuck and drag and pull at the rein as 
they often do. Our mouths are so tender, that where they 
have not been spoiled or hardened with bad or ignorant 


44 


BLACK BE A UTY. 


treatment they feel the slightest movement of the driver’s 
hand, and we know. in an instant what is required of us. 
My mouth had never been spoiled, and I believe that was 
why the mistress preferred me to Ginger, although her 
paces were certainly quite as good. She used often to 
envy me, and said it was all the fault of breaking in, and 
the gag bit in London, that her mouth was not so perfect 
as mine ; and then old Sir Oliver would say, “ There, there ! 
don’t vex yourself; you have the greatest honor; a mare 
that can carry a tall man of our master’s weight, w T ith all 
your spring and sprightly action, does not need to hold 
her head down because she does not carry the lady ; we 
horses must take things as they come, and always be con- 
tented and willing, so long as we are kindly used.” 

I had often wondered how it was that Sir Oliver had 
such a very short tail; it really was only six or seven 
inches long, with a tassel of hair hanging from it; and on 
one of our holidays in the orchard I ventured to ask him 
by what accident it was that he had lost his tail. 

“ Accident !” he snorted, with a fierce look, “ it was no 
accident ! it was a cruel , shameful, cold-blooded act ! When I 
was young I was taken to a place where these cruel things 
were done; I was tied up, and made fast so that I could 
not stir, and then they came and cut off my long, beauti- 
ful tail, through the flesh and through the bone, and took 
it away.” 

“ How dreadful !” I exclaimed. 

“ Dreadful — ah ! it was dreadful ; but it was not only the 
pain, though that was terrible, and lasted a long time ; it 
was not only the indignity of having my best ornament 
taken from me, though that was bad, but it was this : how 
could I ever brush the flies off my sides and my hind legs any 
more ? You who have tails just whisk the flies off without 
thinking about it, and you can’t tell what a torment it is 
to have them settle upon you and sting and sting, and 
have nothing in the world to lash them off with. I tell 


A TALK IN THE ORCHARD. 


45 


you it is a life-long wrong and a life-long loss ; but, thank 
Heaven, they don’t do it now.” 

“ What did they do it for, then?” said Ginger. 

“For fashion /” said the old horse, with a stamp of his 
foot; “for fashion /” if you know what that means; there 
was not a well-bred young horse in my time that had not 
his tail docked in that shameful way, just as if the good 



“The Master on Ginger, the Mistress on Me.” 


God that made us did not know what we wanted , and what 
looked best .” 

“ I suppose it is the fashion that makes them strap our 
heads up with those horrid bits that I was tortured with 
in London,” said Ginger. 

“ Of course it is,” said he. “ To my mind fashion is one 
of the wickedest things in the world. Now look, for in- 
stance, at the way they serve dogs, cutting off their tails to 
make them look plucky, and shearing up their pretty little 
ears to a point to make them look sharp, forsooth. I had 
a dear friend once, a brown terrier, ‘ Skye,’ they called 


46 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


her. She was so fond of me that she never would sleep 
out of my stall ; she made her bed under the manger, and 
there she had a litter of five as pretty little puppies as 
need be ; none were drowned, for they were a valuable 
kind, and how pleased she was with them ! and when they 
got their eyes open and crawled about it was a real pretty 
sight. But one day the man came and took them all 
away. I thought he might be afraid I should tread upon 
them. But it was not so ; in the evening poor Skye brought 
them back again, one by one, in her mouth ; not the happy 
little things that they were, but bleeding and crying piti- 
fully ; they had all had a piece of their tails cut off, and 
the soft flap of their pretty little ears was cut quite off. 
How their mother licked them, and how troubled she was, 
poor thing ! I never forgot it. They healed in time, and 
they forgot the pain, but the nice soft flap, that of course 
was intended to protect the delicate part of their ears from dust 
and injury , was gone forever. Why don't they cut their own 
children's ears into points to make them look sharp ? Why 
don’t they cut the ends of their noses to make them look 
plucky ? one would be just as sensible as the other. 
What right have they to torment and disfigure God’s 
creatures ?” 

Sir Oliver, though he was so gentle, was a fiery old fel- 
low, and what he said was all so new to me and so dread- 
ful, that I found a bitter feeling toward men rise up in my 
mind that I never had before. Of course Ginger was very 
much excited ; she flung up her head with flashing eyes 
and distended nostrils, declaring that men were both 
brutes and blockheads. 

“ Who talks about blockheads ?” said Merrylegs, who 
just came up from the old apple-tree, where he had been 
rubbing himself against the low branch. “ Who talks 
about blockheads? I believe that is a bad word.” 

“ Bad words were made for bad things,” said Ginger, 
and she told him what Sir Oliver had said. 


A TALK IN THE ORCHARD. 


47 


“ It is all true,” said Merry legs, sadly, “ and I have seen 



“A Talk in the Orchard. 1 } 

that about the dogs over and 
over again where I lived first; 
but we won’t talk about it here. 
You know that master and John 
and James are always good to 
us, and talking against men in 
such a place as this doesn’t seem 
fair or grateful, and you know 
there are good masters and good 
grooms beside ours, though of 
course ours are the best.” 

This wise speech of good little Merrylegs, which we 
knew was quite true, cooled us all down, especially Sir 


48 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


Oliver, who was dearly fond of his master ; to turn the 
subject I said, “ Can any one tell me the use of blinkers? ’ 

“ No I” said Sir Oliver, shortly, “ because they are no 
use.” 

“ They are supposed,” said Justice, the roan cob, in his 
calm way, “ to prevent horses from shying and starting, 
and getting so frightened as to cause accidents.” 

“ Then what is the reason they do not put them on riding 
horses; especially on ladies' horses f ’ said I. 

“ There is no reason at all,” said he quietly, “ except 
the fashion ; they say that a horse would be so frightened 
to see the wheels of his own cart or carriage coming be- 
hind him that he would be sure to run away, although 
of course when he is ridden he sees them all about him if 
the streets are crowded. I admit they do sometimes 
come too close to be pleasant, but we don’t run away ; we 
are used to it, and understand it, and if we never had 
blinkers put on we should never want them ; we should 
see what was there, and know what was what, and be 
much less frightened than by only seeing bits of things 
that we can’t understand. Of course there may be some 
nervous horses who have been hurt or frightened when 
they were young, who may be the better for them ; but as 
I never was nervous, I can’t judge.” 

“ I consider,” said Sir Oliver, “ that blinkers are dangerous 
things in the night ; we horses can see much better in the 
dark than men can, and many an accident would never have 
happened if horses might have had the full use of their eyes. 
Some years ago, I remember, there was a hearse with two 
horses returning one dark night, and just by Farmer 
Sparrow’s house, where the pond is close to the road, the 
wheels went too near the edge, and the hearse was over- 
turned into the water ; both the horses were drowned, and 
the driver hardly escaped. Of course after this accident a 
stout white rail was put up that might be easily seen ; but 
if those horses had not been partly blinded , they would of 







A TALK IN THE ORCHARD. 


49 


themselves have kept farther from the edge, and no acci- 
dent would have happened. When our master’s carriage 
was overturned, before you came here, it was said that if 
the lamp on the left side had not gone out John would have 
seen the great hole that the road-makers had left; and so 
he might ; but if old Colin had not had blinkers on he would 
have seen it, lamp or no lamp, for he was far too knowing 
an old horse to run into danger. As it was, he was very 
much hurt, the carriage was broken, and how John es- 
caped nobody knew.” 

“ I should say,” said Ginger, curling her nostril, 44 that 
these men, who are so wise, had better give orders that in 
future all foals should be born with their eyes set just in 
the middle of their foreheads, instead of on the side ; they 
always think they can improve upon nature and mend 
what God has made.” 

Things were getting rather sore again, when Merrylegs 
held up his knowing little face and said, 11 I’ll tell you a 
secret: I believe John does not approve of blinkers; I 
heard him talking with master about it one day. The 
master said that 4 if horses had been used to them, it 
might be dangerous in some cases to leave them off;’ and 
John said he thought it would be a good thing if all colts were 
broken in without blinkers, as was the case in some foreign coun- 
tries. So, let us cheer up, and have a run to the other end 
of the orchard; I believe the wind has blown down some 
apples, and we might just as well eat them as the slugs.” 

Merrylegs could not be resisted, so we broke off our 
long conversation, and got up our spirits by munching 
some very sweet apples which lay scattered on the grass. 


4 


CHAPTER XI. 

PLAIN SPEAKING. 

The longer I lived at Birtwick, the more proud and 
happy I felt at having such a place. Our master and mis- 
tress were respected and beloved by all who know them ; 
they were good and kind to everybody and everything; 
not only to men and women, but to horses and donkeys, 
dogs and cats, cattle and birds ; there was no oppressed 
or ill-used creature that had not a friend in them, and 
their servants took the same tone. If any of the village 
children were known to treat any creature cruelly, they 
soon heard about it from the Hall. 

The Squire and Farmer Grey had worked together, as 
they said, for more than twenty years to get check-reins 
on the cart-horses done away with, and in our parts you 
seldom saw them ; and sometimes if mistress met a heavily- 
laden horse, with his head strained up, she would stop the 
carriage and get out, and reason with the driver in her 
sweet, serious voice, and try to show him how foolish and 
cruel it was., 

I don’t think any man could withstand our mistress. I 
wish all ladies were like her. Our master, too, used to 
come down very heavy sometimes. I remember he was 
riding me toward home one morning, when w T e saw a 
powerful man driving toward us in a light pony chaise, 
with a beautiful little bay pony, with slender legs and a 
high-bred, sensitive head and face. Just as he came to 
the park gates, the little thing turned toward them ; the 
man, without word or warning, wrenched the creature’s 
head round with such force and suddenness that he 
pearly threw it on its haunches; recovering itself, it was 
going on, when he began to lash it furiously; the pony 
plunged forward, but the strong heavy hand held the 
( 50 ) 


PLAIN SPEAKING. 


51 


pretty creature back with force almost enough to break 
its jaw, while the whip still cut into him. It was a dread- 
ful sight to me, for I knew what fearful pain it gave that 
delicate little mouth; but master gave me the word, and 
we were up with him in a second. 

u Sawyer,” he cried in a stern voice, “ is that pony made 
of flesh and blood ?” 

“ Flesh and blood, and temper,” he said ; “ he’s too fond 
of his own will, and that won’t suit me.” He spoke as if 
he was in a strong passion ; he was a builder, who had 
often been to the Park on business. 

“ And do you think,” said master, sternly, “ that treat- 
ment like this will make him fond of your will?” 

“ He had no business to make that turn ; his road was 
straight on !” said the man roughly. 

“ You have often driven that pony up to my place,” 
said master; “it only shows the creature’s memory and 
intelligence; how did he know that you were not going 
there again ? But that has little to do with it. I must say, 
Mr. Sawyer, that more unmanly, brutal treatment of a 
little pony it was never my painful lot to witness; and by 
giving way to such passion you injure your own charac- 
ter as much, nay, more, than you injure your horse ; and 
remember, we shall all have to be judged according to our 
works, whether they be toward man or toward beast.” 

Master rode me home slowly, and I could tell by his 
voice how the thing had grieved him. He was just as 
free to speak to gentlemen of his own rank as to those be- 
low him; for another day, when we were out, we met a 
Captain Langley, a friend of our master’s ; he was driving 
a splendid pair of grays in a kind of brake. After a little 
conversation the Captain said : 

“What do you think of my new team, Mr. Douglas? 
You know you are the judge of horses in these parts, and 
I should like your opinion.” 

The master backed me a little, so as to get a good view 


52 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


of them. “They are an uncommonly handsome pair,” 
he said, “ and if they are as good as they look, I am sure 
you need not wish for anything better ; but I see you still 
hold that pet scheme of yours for worrying your horses 
and lessening their power.” 

“ What do you mean?” said the other, “ the check-reins? 
Oh, ah ! I know that’s a hobby of yours; well, the fact is, 
I like to see my horses hold their heads up.” 

“ Bo do I,” said master, “ as well as any man, but I don’t 
like to see them held vp ; that takes all the shine out of it. 
Now, you are a military man, Langley, and no doubt like 
to see your regiment look well on parade, ‘ heads up,’ and 
all that; but you would not take much credit for your 
drill if all your men had their heads tied to a backboard ! 
It might not be much harm on parade, except to worry 
and fatigue them ; hut how would it be in a bayonet charge 
against the enemy , when they want the free use of every 
muscle, and all their strength thrown forward ? I would 
not give much for their chance of victory. And it is just 
the same with horses: you fret and worry their tempers , and 
decrease their power ; you will not let them throw their 
weight against their work, and so they have to do too much 
with their joints and muscles, and of course it wears them 
up faster. You may depend upon it, horses were intended 
to have their heads free, as free as men’s are; and if we 
could act a little more according to common sense, and a 
good deal less according to fashion, we should find many 
things work easier; besides, you know as well as I that if 
a horse makes a false step, he has much less chance of recov- 
ering himself if his head and neck are fastened back. And 
now,” said the master, laughing, “ I have given my hobby 
a good trot out, can’t you make up your mind to mount 
him, too, captain ? Your example would go a long way.” 

“ I believe you are right in theory,” said the other, “ and 
that’s rather a hard hit about the soldiers; but — well — 
I’ll think about it,” and so they parted. 


CHAPTER XII. 


A STORMY DAY. 

One day late in the autumn my master had long a jour- 
ney to go on business. I was put into the dog-cart, and 
John went with his master. I always liked to go in the 
dog-cart, it was so light, and the high wheels ran along so 
pleasantly. There had been a great deal of rain, and now 
the wind was very high and blew the dry leaves across 
the road in a shower. We went along merrily till we came 
to the toll-bar and the low wooden bridge. The river 
banks were rather high, and the bridge, instead of rising, 
went across just level, so that in the middle, if the river 
was full, the water would be nearly up to the wood- work 
and planks ; but as there were good substantial rails on 
each side, people did not mind it. 

The man at the gate said the river was rising fast, and 
he feared it would be a bad night. Many of the meadows 
were under water, and in one low part of the road the 
water was half way up to my knees ; the bottom was good, 
and master drove gently, so it was no matter. 

When we got to the town, of course I had a good bait, 
but as the master’s business engaged him a long time, we 
did not start for home till rather late in the afternoon. 
The wind was then much higher, and I heard the master 
say to John he had never been out in such a storm ; and 
so I thought, as we went along the skirts of a wood, where 
the great branches were swaying about like twigs, and the 
rushing sound was terrible. 

“ I wish we were well out of this wood,” said my master. 

( 53 ) 


54 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


“ Yes, sir,” said John, “ it would be rather awkward if 
one of these branches came down upon us.” 

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when there 
was a groan, and a crack, and a splitting sound, and tear- 
ing, crashing down amongst the other trees came an oak, 
torn up by the roots, and it fell right across the road just 



“A Very Near Touch.” 

before us. I will never say I was not frightened, for I 
was. I stopped still, and I believe I trembled. Of course 
I did not turn round or run away ; I was not brought up 
to that. John jumped out, and was in a moment at my 
head. 

‘‘ That was a very near touch,” said my master. “ What’s 
to be done now?” 

“ Well, sir, we can’t drive over that tree, nor yet get 
around it ; there will be nothing for it but to go hack to 


A STORMY DAY. 


55 


the four crossways, and that will be a good six miles be- 
fore we get round to the wooden bridge again ; it will 
make us late, but the horse is fresh.” 

So back we went and round by the cross-roads, but by 
the time we got to the bridge it was very nearly dark ; we 
could just see that the w T ater was over the middle of it; 
but as that happened sometimes when the floods were out, 
master did not stop. We were going along at a good pace, 
but the moment my feet touched the first part of the 
bridge, I felt sure there was something wrong. I dare not 
go forward and I made a dead stop. “ Go on, Beauty,” 
said my master, and he gave me a touch with the whip, 
but I dare not stir; he gave me a sharp cut; I jumped, 
but I dare not go forward. 

“ There’s something wrong, sir,” said John, and he sprang 
out of the dog-cart, and came to my head and looked all 
about. He tried to lead me forward. “ Come on, Beauty, 
what’s the matter?” Of course I could not tell him, but 
I knew very well that the bridge was not safe. 

Just then a man at the toll-gate on the other side ran 
out of the house, tossing a torch about like one mad. 

“ Hoy, hoy, hoy! hello! stop !” he cried. 

“ What’s the matter?” shouted my master. 

“ The bridge is broken in the middle, and part of it is 
carried away; if you come on you’ll be into the river.” 

“ Thank God !” said my master. “ You Beauty !” said 
John, and took my bridle and gently turned me round 
to the right-hand road by the river side. The sun had set 
some time; the wind seemed to have lulled off after that 
furious blast which tore up the tree. It grew darker and 
darker, stiller and stiller. I trotted quietly along, the 
wdieels hardly making a sound on the soft road. For a 
good while neither master nor John spoke, and then mas- 
ter began in a serious voice. I could not understand 
much of what they said, but I found they thought, if I 
had gone on as the master wanted me, most likely the 


56 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


bridge would have given way under us, and horse, chaise, 
master, and man would have fallen into the river; and as 
the current was flowing very strongly, and there w r as no 
light and no help at hand, it was more than likely we 
should all have been drowned. Master said God had given 
men reason, by which they could find out things for themselves; 
but He had given animals knowledge, which did not depend on 
reason , and which was much more prompt and perfect in its way , 
and by which they had often saved the lives of men. John had 
many stories to tell of dogs and horses, and the wonderful 
things they had done; he thought people did not value 
their animals half enough, nor make friends of them as 
they ought to do. I am sure he makes friends of them, 
if ever a man did. 

At last we came the park gates, and found the gardener 
looking out for us. He said that mistress had been in a 
dreadful way ever since dark, fearing some accident had 
happened, and that she had sent James off on Justice, the 
roan cob, toward the wooden bridge to make inquiry 
after us. 

We saw a light at the hall door and at the upper win- 
dows, and as we came out mistress ran out, saying, “ Are 
you really safe, my dear? Oh! I have been so anxious, 
fancying all sorts of things. Have you had no accident?” 

“No, my dear; but if your Black Beauty had not been 
wiser than we were we should all have been carried down 
the river at the wooden bridge.” I heard no more, as they 
went into the house, and John took me to the stable. Oh, 
what a good supper he gave me that night, a good bran 
mash and some crushed beans with my oats, and such a 
thick bed of straw ! and I was glad of it, for I was tired. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE DEVIL’S TRADE-MARK. 

One day when John and I had been out on some busi- 
ness of my master’s and were returning gently on a 
long, straight road, at some distance we saw a boy trying 
to leap a pony over a gate; the pony would not take the 
leap, and the boy cut him with the whip, but he only 
turned off on one side. He whipped him again, but the 
pony turned off on the other side. Then the boy got off 
and gave him a hard thrashing, and knocked him about 
the head ; then he got up again and tried to make him 
leap the gate, kicking him all the time shamefully, but still 
the pony refused. When we were nearly at the spot, the 
pony put down his head and threw up his heels and sent 
the boy neatly over into a broad quickset hedge, and with 
the rein dangling from his head he set off home at a full 
gallop. John laughed out quite loud. “ Served him right,” 
he said. 

“ Oh, oh, oh !” cried the boy as he struggled about 
amongst the thorns; “ I say, come and help me out.” 

“Thank ye,” said John, “I think you are quite in the 
right place," and maybe a little scratching will teach you 
not to leap a pony over a gate that is too high for him ;” 
and so with that John rode off. “ It may be,” said he to 
himself, “ that young fellow is a liar as well as a cruel one ; 
we’ll just go home by Farmer Bushby’s, Beauty, and then 
if anybody wants to know, you and I can tell ’em, ye see.” 
So we turned off to the right and soon came up to the 
stack-yard, and within sight of the house. The farmer 
was hurrying out into the road, and his wife was standing 
at the gate, looking very frightened. 


( 57 ) 


58 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


“ Have you seen my boy?” said Mr. Bushby, as we 
came up ; “ he went out an hour ago on my black pony, 
and the creature is just come back without a rider.” 

“I should think, sir,” said John, “he had better be 
without a rider, unless he can be ridden properly.” 

“ What do you mean ?” said the farmer. 

“ Well, sir, I saw your son whipping, and kicking, and 
knocking that good little pony about shamefully, because 
he would not leap a gate that was too high for him. The 
pony behaved well, sir, and showed no vice; but at last 
he just threw up his heels, and tipped the young gentle- 
man into the thorn hedge; he wanted me to help him 
out; but, I hope you will excuse me, sir, I did not feel in- 
clined to do so. There’s no bones broken, sir, he’ll only 
get a few scratches. I love horses, and it riles me to see 
them badly used; it is a bad plan to aggravate an animal 
till he uses his heels; the first time is not always the last.” 

During this time the mother began to cry, “ Oh, my 
poor Bill, I must go and meet him; he must be hurt.” 

“ You had better go into the house, wife,” said the far- 
mer ; “ Bill wants a lesson about this, and I must see that 
he gets it ; this is not the first time, nor the second, that 
he has ill-used that pony, and I shall stop it. I am much 
obliged to you, Manly. Good-evening.” 

So he went on, John chuckling all the way home; then 
he told James about it, who laughed and said, “Served 
him right. I knew that boy at school ; he took great airs 
on himself because he was a farmer’s son ; he used to 
swagger about and bully the little boys; of course we 
elder ones would not have any of that nonsense, and let 
him know that in the school and the playground farmers’ 
sons and laborers’ sons were all alike. I well remember 
one day, just before afternoon school, I found him at a 
large window catching flies and pulling off their wings. 
He did not see me, and I gave him a box on the ears that 
laid him sprawling on the floor. Well, angry as I was, I 


JAMES HOWARD. 


59 


was almost frightened, he roared and bellowed in such a 
style. The boys rushed in from the playground, and the 
master ran in from the road to see who was being mur- 
dered. Of course, I said fair and square at once what I 
had done, and why; then I showed the master the flies, 
some crushed and some crawling about helpless, and I 
showed him the wings on the window-sill. I never saw 
him so angry before ; but as Bill was still howling and 
whining, like the coward that he was, he did not give him 
any more punishment of that kind, but set him up on a 
stool for the rest of the afternoon, and said that he should 
not go out to play for that week. Then he talked to all the 
boys very seriously about cruelty, and said how hard- 
hearted and cowardly it was to hurt the weak and the 
helpless ; but what stuck in my mind was this : he said 
that cruelty was the Devil's own trade-mark, and if we saw any- 
one who took pleasure in cruelty we might know who he 
belonged to, for the Devil was a murderer from the be- 
ginning, and a tormentor to the end. On the other hand, 
where we saw people who loved their neighbors, and were 
kind to man and beast, we might know that was God’s 
mark, for ‘ God is Love.’ ” 

“Your master never taught you a truer thing,” said 
John ; “ there is no religion without love, and people may 
talk as much as they like about their religion, but if it does 
not teach them to be good and kind to man and beast it is all a 
sham — all a sham, James, and it won’t stand when things 
come to be turned inside out, and put down for what they 
are.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

JAMES HOWARD. 

One morning early in December John had just led me 
into my box after my daily exercise, and was strapping 


60 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


my cloth on, and James was coming in from the corn 
chamber with some oats, when the master came into the 
stable; he looked rather serious, and held an open letter 
in his hand. John fastened the door of my box, touched 
his cap, and waited for orders. 

“Good-morning, John,” said the master; “I want to 
know if you have any complaint to make of James ?” 

“ Complaint, sir ? No, sir.” 

“Is he industrious at his work and respectful to you ?” 

“ Yes, sir, always.” 

“ You never find he slights his work when your back is 
turned?” 

“ Never, sir.” 

“ That’s well ; but I must put another question : have 
you no reason to suspect, when he goes out with the 
horses to exercise them, or to take a message, that he 
stops about, talking to his acquaintances, or goes into 
houses where he has no business, leaving the horses out- 
side?” 

“No, sir, certainly not; and if anybody has been 
saying that about James I don’t believe it, and I 
don’t mean to believe it unless I have it fairly proved 
before witnesses; it’s not for me to say who has been 
trying to take away James’s character, but I will 
say this, sir, that a steadier, pleasanter, honester, smarter 
young fellow I never had in this stable. I can trust his 
word and I can trust his work; he is gentle and clever 
with the horses, and I would rather have them in charge 
with him than with half the young fellows I know of in 
laced hats and liveries; and whoever wants a character 
of James Howard,” said John, with a decided jerk of his 
head, “let them come to John Manly.” 

The master stood all this time grave and attentive, but 
as John finished his speech a broad smile spread over his 
face, and, looking kindly across at James, who all this 
time stood still at the door, he said, “ James, my lad, set 


JAMES HOWARD. 


61 


down the oats and come here; I am very glad to find 
that John’s opinion of your character agrees so exactly 
with my own. John is a cautious man,” he said, with a 
droll smile, “ and it is not always easy to get his opinion 
about people, so I thought if I beat the bush on this side 
the birds would fly out, and I should learn what I wanted 
to know quickly; so now we will come to business. I 
have a letter from my brother-in-law, Sir Clifford Williams, 
of Clifford Hall. He wants me to find him a trustworthy 
young groom, about twenty or twenty-one, who knows his 
business. His old coachman, who has lived with him 
thirty years, is getting feeble, and he wants a man to work 
with him and get into his ways who would be able, when 
the old man is pensioned off, to step into his place. He 
would have eighteen shillings a week at first, a stable suit, 
a driving suit, a bed room over the coach-house, and a boy 
under him. Sir Clifford is a good master, and if you could 
get the place it would be a good start for you. I don’t 
want to part with you, and if you left us I know John 
would lose his right hand.” 

“That I should, sir,” said John, “but I would not stand 
in his light for the world.” 

“How old are you, James?” said his master, 

“ Nineteen next May, sir.” 

“That’s young; what do you think, John?” 

“Well, sir, it is young; but he is as steady as a man, 
and is strong and well grown, and though he has not had 
much experience in driving, has a light, firm hand and a 
quick eye, and he is very careful, and I am quite sure no 
horse of his will be ruined for want of having his feet 
and shoes looked after.” 

“ Your word will go the furthest, John,” said the master, 
“ for Sir Clifford adds in a postscript, ‘ If I could find a 
man trained by your John, I should like him better than 
any other;’ so James, lad, think it over, talk to your mother 
at dinner-time, and then let me know what you wish.” 


62 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


In a few days after this conversation it was fully settled 
that James should go to Clifford Hall in a month or six 
weeks, as it suited his master, and in the meantime he 
was to get all the practice in driving that could be given 
to him. I never knew the carriage go out so often before ; 
when the mistress did not go out the master drove himself 
in the two-wheeled chaise ; but now, whether it was master 
or the young ladies, or only an errand, Ginger and I were 
put in the carriage and James drove us. At the first John 
rode with him on the box, telling him this and that, and 
after that James drove alone. 

Then it was wonderful what a number of places the 
master would go to in the city on Saturday, and what 
queer streets we were driven through. He was sure to go 
to the railway station just as the train was coming in, and 
cabs and carriages, carts and omnibuses, were all trying 
to get over the bridge together ; that bridge wanted good 
horses and good drivers when the railway bell was ring- 
ing, for it was narrow, and there was a very sharp turn up 
to the station, where it would not have been at all difficult 
for people to run into each other if they did not look 
sharp and keep their wits about them. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE OLD OSTLER. 

After this it was decided by my master and mistress 
to pay a visit to some friends who lived about forty-six 
miles from our home, and James was to drive them. The 
first day we travelled thirty-two miles. There were some 
long, heavy hills, but James drove so carefully and 
thoughtfully that we were not at all harassed. He' never 


THE OLD OSTLER. 


63 


forgot to put on the brake as we went down-hill, nor to 
take it off at the right place. He kept our feet on the 
smoothest part of the road, and if the uphill was very 
long, he set the carriage wheels a little across the road, so 
as not to run back, and gave us a breathing. All these 
little things help a horse very much, 'particularly if he gets 
kind words into the bargain. 

We stopped once or twice on the road, and just as the 
sun was going down we reached the town where we were 
to spend the night. We stopped at the principal hotel, 
which was in the market-place. It was a very large one. 
We drove under an archway into a long yard, at the fur- 
ther end of which were the stables and coach-houses. Two 
ostlers came to take us out. The head ostler was a pleas- 
ant, active little man, with a crooked leg and a yellow 
striped waistcoat. I never saw a man unbuckle harness 
so quickly as he did, and with a pat and a good word he 
led me to a long stable, with six or eight stalls in it and 
two or three horses. The other man brought Ginger. 
James stood by while we were rubbed down and cleaned. 

I never was cleaned so lightly and quickly as by that 
little old man. When he had done, James stepped up 
and felt me over, as if he thought I could not be thor- 
oughly done, but he found my coat as clean and smooth 
as silk. 

“ Well,” he said, “ I thought I was pretty quick, and 
our John quicker still, but you do beat all I ever saw for 
being quick and thorough at the same time.” 

“ Practice makes perfect,” said the crooked little ostler, 
“ and ’twould be a pity if it didn’t; forty years’ practice, 
and not perfect! ha, ha! that would be a pity; and, as to 
being quick, why, bless you! that is only a matter of 
habit; if you get into the habit of being quick, it is just 
as easy as being slow; easier, I should say; in fact, it 
don’t agree with my health to be hulking about over a job 
twice as long as it need take. Bless you ! I couldn’t whistle 


64 


BLACK BEAUTY . 


if I crawled over my work as some folks do ! You see, I 
have been about horses ever since I was twelve years old, 
in hunting stables and racing stables ; and being small, 
ye see, I was jockey for several years ; but at the Good- 
wood, ye see, the turf was very slippery and my poor 
Larkspur got a fall, and I broke my knee, and so, of course, 
I was of no more use there. But I could not live without 
horses, of course I couldn’t, so I took to the hotels. And 
I can tell ye it is a downright pleasure to handle an ani- 
mal like this, well-bred, well-mannered, well-cared for; 
bless ye ! 1 can tell how a horse is treated. Give me the hand- 
ling of a horse for twenty minutes , and I’ll tell you what sort of 
a groom he has had. Look at this one, pleasant, quiet, turns 
about just as you want him, holds up his feet to be cleaned 
out, or anything else you please to wish ; then you’ll find 
another fidgety, fretty, won’t move the right way, or starts 
across the stall, tosses up his head as soon as you come 
near him, lays his ears, and seems afraid of you, or else 
squares about at you with his heels. Poor things ! I know 
what sort of treatment they have had. If they are timid, 
it makes them start or shy ; if they are high-mettled, it 
makes them vicious or dangerous ; their tempers are mostly 
made when they are young. Bless you ! they are like chil- 
dren; train ’em up in the way they should go, as the good book 
says, and when they are old they will not depart from it, if they 
have a chance, that is.” 

“ I like to hear you talk,” said James ; “ that’s the way 
we lay it down at home, at our master’s.” 

“Who is your master, young man? if it be a proper 
question. I judge he is a good one, from what I see.” 

“ He is Squire Gordon, of Birtwick Park, the other side 
the Beacon hills,” said James. 

“ Ah ! so, so; I have heard tell of him ; fine judge of 
horses, ain’t he? — the best rider in the country ?” 

“ I believe he is,” said James, “ but he rides very little 
now, since the poor young master was killed.” 



“ Master went with me to the Smith’s Forge.” 




THE FIRE. 


65 


“ Ah ! poor gentleman ; I read all about it in the paper 
at the time ; a fine horse killed, too, wasn’t there ?” 

“ Yes,” said James, “ he was a splendid creature, brother 
to this one, and just like him.” 

“Pity! pity!” said the old man; “’twas a bad place to 
leap, if I remember; a thin fence at top, a steep bank 
down to the stream, wasn’t it? no chance for a horse to 
see where he is going. Now, I am for bold riding as much 
as any man, but still there are some leaps that only a very 
knowing old huntsman has any right to take; a mail’s life 
and a horse’s life are worth more than a fox’s tail; at least I 
should say they ought to be.” 

During this time the other man had finished Ginger 
and had brought our corn, and James and the old man left 
the stable together. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE FIRE. 

Later on in the evening a traveller’s horse was brought 
in by the second ostler, and while he was cleaning him a 
young man with a pipe in his mouth lounged into the 
stable to gossip. 

“I say, Towler,” said the ostler, “just run up the lad- 
der into the loft and put some hay down into this horse’s 
rack, will you? only, lay down your pipe.” 

“All right,” said the other, and went up through the 
trap-door, and I heard him step across the floor overhead 
and put down the hay. James came in to look at us the 
last thing, and then the door was locked. 

I cannot say how long I had slept, nor what time in the 
night it was, but I woke up very uncomfortable, though I 
hardly knew why. I got up; the air seemed all thick 

5 


66 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


and choking. I heard Ginger coughing, and one of the 
other horses seemed very restless ; it was quite dark, and 
I could see nothing, but the stable seemed full of smoke, 
and I hardly knew how to breathe. 

The trap-door had been left open, and I thought that 
was the place it came through. I listened, and heard a 
soft, rushing sort of noise, and a low crackling and snap- 
ping. I did not know what it w T as, but there was some- 
thing in the sound so strange that it made me tremble all 
over. The other horses were now all awake ; some were 
pulling at their halters, others were stamping. 

At last I heard steps outside, and the ostler who had 
put up the traveller’s horse burst into the stable with a 
lantern, and began to untie the horses and try to lead 
them out; but he seemed in such a hurry and so frightened 
himself that he frightened me still more. The first horse 
would not go with him; he tried the second and third, and 
they, too, would not stir. He came to me next and tried 
to drag me out of the stall by force ; of course that was no 
use. He tried us all by turns, and then left the stable. 

No doubt we were very foolish, but danger seemed to 
be all round, and there was nobody we knew to trust in, 
and all was strange and uncertain. The fresh air that had 
come in through the open door made it easier to breathe, 
but the rushing sound overhead grew louder, and as I 
looked upward, through the bars of my empty rack, I 
saw a red light flickering on the wall. Then I heard a 
cry of “ Fire !” outside, and the old ostler quietly and 
quickly came in ; he got one horse out, and went to an- 
other, but the flames were playing round the trap-door, 
and the roaring overhead was dreadful. 

The next thing I heard was James’s voice, quiet and 
cheery, as it always was. 

tl Come, my beauties, it is time for us to be off, so wake 
up and come along.” I stood nearest the door, so he 
came to me first, patting me as he came in. 


THE FIRE. 


67 


“ Come, Beauty, on with your bridle, my boy ; we 
will soon be out of this smother.” It was on in no time; 
then he took the scarf off his neck and tied it lightly 
over my eyes, and patting and coaxing, he led me out of 
the stable. Safe in the yard, he slipped the scarf off my 
eyes and shouted, “ Here, somebody ! take this horse 
while I go back for the other.” 

A tall, broad man stepped forward and took me, and 
James darted back in the stable. I set up a shrill whinny 
as I saw him go. Ginger told me afterwards, that whinny 
was the best thing I could have done for her, for had she 
not heard me outside she would never have had courage 
to come out. 

There was much confusion in the yard, the horses be- 
ing got out of other stables, and the carriages and gigs 
being pulled out of houses and sheds, lest the flames 
should spread further. On the other side of the yard 
windows were thrown up, and the people were shouting 
all sorts of things; but I kept my eye fixed on the stable 
door, where the smoke poured out thicker than ever, and I 
could see flashes of red light ; presently I heard above all 
the stir and din a loud, clear voice, which I knew was 
master’s : 

“James Howard! James Howard! Are you there?” 

There was no answer, but I heard a crash of something 
falling in the stable, and the next moment I gave a loud, 
joyful neigh, for I saw James coming through the smoke 
leading Ginger with him ; she was coughing violently, and 
he was not able to speak. 

“My brave lad!” said master, laying his hand on his 
shoulder, “are you hurt?” 

James shook his head, for he could not yet speak. 

“ Ay,” said the big man who held me ; “ he is a brave 
lad, and no mistake.” 

“ And now,” said master, “ when you have got your 
breath, James, we’ll get out of this place as quickly as 


68 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


we can,” and we were moving toward the entry, when 
from the market-place there came a sound of galloping feet 
and loud, rumbling wheels. 

“ ’Tis the fire engine ! the fire engine !” shouted two or 
three voices ; “stand back, make way !” and clattering and 
thundering over the stones two horses dashed into the 
yard with the heavy engine behind them. The firemen 
leaped to the ground; there was no need to ask where the 
fire was — it was rolling up in a great blaze from the roof. 

We got out as fast as we could into the broad, quiet 
market-place ; the stars were shining, and, except the noise 
behind us, all was still. Master led the way to a large 
hotel on the other side, and as soon as the ostler came he 
said, “ James, I must now hasten to your mistress ; I trust 
the horses entirely to you ; order whatever you think is 
needed and with that he was gone. The master did not 
run, but I never saw mortal man walk so fast as he did 
that night. 

There was a dreadful sound before we got into our 
stalls ; the shrieks of those poor horses that we left burn- 
ing in the stable — it was very terrible! and made both 
Ginger and me feel very bad. We, however, were taken 
in and well done by. 

The next morning the master came to see how we were 
and to speak to James. I did not hear much, for the 
ostler was rubbing me down, but I could see that James 
looked very happy, and I thought the master was proud 
of him. Our mistress had been so much alarmed in the 
night that the journey was put off till the afternoon, so 
James had the morning on hand, and went first to the inn 
to see about our harness and the carriage, and then to 
hear more about the fire. When he came back, we heard 
him tell the ostler about it. At first no one could guess 
how the fire had been caused, but at last a man said he 
saw Dick Towler go into the stable with a pipe in his mouth , and 
when he came out he had not one, and went to the tap for 



Snorting with Astonishment and Fear. 





JOHN MANLY’S TALK. 


69 


another. Then the under ostler said he had asked Dick to 
go up the ladder to put down some hay, but told him to 
lay down his pipe first. Dick denied taking the pipe with 
him, but no one believed him. I remember our John 
Manly’s rule, never to allow a pipe in the stable , and thought it 
ought to be the rule everywhere. 

James said the roof and floor had all fallen in, and that 
only the black walls were standing ; the two poor horses 
that could not be got out were buried under the burnt 
rafters and tiles. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

JOHN MANLY’S TALK. 

The rest of our journey was very easy, and a little 
after sunset we reached the house of my master’s friend. 
We were taken into a clean snug stable ; there was a kind 
coachman, who made us very comfortable, and who seemed 
to think a good deal of James when he heard about the 
fire. 

“ There is one thing quite clear, young man,” he said ; 
“your horses know who they can trust; it is one of the 
hardest things in the world to get horses out of a stable 
when there is either fire or flood. I don’t know why they 
won’t come out, but they won’t — not one in twenty.” 

We stopped two or three days at this place and then 
returned home. All went well on the journey; we were 
glad to be in our own stable again, and John was equally 
glad to see us. 

Before he and James left us for the night James said, 
“ I wonder who is coming in my place.” 

“ Little Joe Green at the Lodge,” said John. 

“ Little Joe Green ! why, he’s a child !” 


70 


BLACK BEATJTY. 


“ He is fourteen and a half,” said John. 

“ But he is such a little chap !” 

‘‘Yes, he is small, but he is quick, and willing, and 
kind-hearted, too, and then he wishes very much to come, 
and his father would like it; and I know the master would 
like to give him the chance. He said if I thought he 
would not do he would look out for a bigger boy ; but I 
said I was quite agreeable to try him for six weeks.” 

“ Six weeks?” said James; “ why, it will be six months 
before he can be of much use! It will make you a deal 
of work, John.” 

“ Well,” said John, with a laugh, “ work and I are very 
good friends; I never was afraid of work yet.” 

“ You are a very good man,” said James ; “ I wish I may 
ever be like you.” 

“ I don’t often speak of myself,” said John, “ but as 
you are going away from us out into the world, to shift 
for yourself, I’ll just tell you how I look on these things. 
I was just as old as Joseph when my father and mother 
died of the fever, within ten days of each other, and left 
me and my crippled sister Nelly alone in the world, with- 
out a relation that we could look to for help. I was a 
farmer’s boy, not earning enough to keep myself, much 
less both of us, and she must have gone to the workhouse 
but for our mistress (Nelly calls her her angel, and she 
has good right to do so). She went and hired a room for 
her with old Widow Mallet, and she gave her knitting and 
needlework when she was able to do it, and when she was 
ill she sent her dinners and many nice, comfortable things, 
and was like a mother to her. Then the master, he took 
me into the stable under old Norman, the coachman that 
was, then. I had my food at the house and my bed in the 
loft, and a suit of clothes, and three shillings a week, so 
that I could help Nelly. Then there was Norman ; he 
might have turned round and said at his age he could not 
be troubled with a raw boy from the plow-tail, but he was 


JOHN MANLY’S TALK. 


71 


like a father to me, and took no end of pains with me. 
When the old man died some years after, I stepped into 
his place, and now of course I have top wages, and can 
lay by for a rainy day or a sunny day, as it may happen, 
and Nelly is as happy as a bird. So you see, James, lam 
not the man that should turn up his nose at a little boy, 
and vex a good, kind master. No, no ! I shall miss you 
very much, James, but we shall pull through, and there's 
nothing like doing a kindness when His 'put in your way , and 
1 am glad 1 can do it." 

“ Then,” said James, u you don’t hold with that saying, 
‘ Everybody look after himself, and take care of number 
one.’ ” 

“ No, indeed,” said John ; “ where should I and Nelly 
have been if master and mistress and old Norman had 
only taken care of number one ? Why, she in the work- 
house and I hoeing turnips ! Where would Black Beauty 
and Ginger have been if you had only thought of number 
one? Why, roasted to death! No, Jim, no! that is a 
selfish, heathenish saying, whoever uses it ; and any man 
who thinks he has nothing to do but take care of number 
one, why, it’s a pity but what he had been drowned like a 
puppy or kitten before he got his eyes open — that’s what 
I think,” said John, with a very decided jerk of his head. 

James laughed at this; but there was a thickness in his 
voice when he said, “You have been my best friend ex- 
cept my mother; I hope you won’t forget me.” 

“ No, lad, no!” said John, “and if ever I can do you a 
good turn, I hope you won’t forget me.” 

The next day Joe came to the stables to learn all he 
could before James left. He learned to sweep the stable, 
to bring in the straw and hay ; he began to clean the har- 
ness, and helped to wash the carriage. As he was quite 
too short to do anything in the way of grooming Ginger 
and me, James taught him upon Merrylegs, for he was to 
have full charge of him, under John. He was a nice 


72 


BLACK BE A UTY. 


little bright fellow, and always came whistling to his 
work. 

Merrylegs was a good deal put out at being “mauled 
about,” as he said, “by a boy who knew nothing;” but 
toward the end of the second week he told me confiden- 
tially that he thought the boy would turn out well. 

At last the day came when James had to leave us ; 
cheerful as he always was, he looked quite down-hearted 
that morning. 

“ You see,” he said to John, “ I am leaving a great deal 
behind; my mother, and Betsy, and you, and a good 
master and mistress, and then the horses, and my old 
Merrylegs. At the new place there will not be a soul that 
I shall know. If it were not that I shall get a higher 
place, and be able to help my mother better, I don’t think 
I should have made up my mind to it; it is a real pinch, 
John.” 

“ Ay, James, lad, so it is; but I should not think much 
of you if you could leave your home for the first time and 
not feel it. Cheer up, you’ll make friends there, and if 
you get on well, as I am sure you will, it will be a fine 
thing for your mother, and she will be proud enough that 
you have got into such a good place as that.” 

So John cheered him up, but every one was sorry to 
lose James. As for Merrylegs, he pined after him for 
several days, and went quite off his appetite. So John 
took him out several mornings with a leading rein, when 
he exercised me, and, trotting and galloping by my side, 
got up the little fellow’s spirits again, and he was soon all 
right. 

Joe’s father would often come in and give a little help, 
as he understood the work, and Joe took a great deal of 
pains to learn, and John was quite encouraged about him. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

GOING FOR THE DOCTOR. 

One night, a few days after James had left, I had eaten 
my hay and was lying down in my straw fast asleep, 
when I was suddenly roused by the stable-bell ringing 
very loud. I heard the door of John’s house open, and his 
feet running up to the Hall. He was back again in no 
time ; he unlocked the stable door, and came in, calling 
out, “Wake up, Beauty! you must go well now, if ever 
you did and almost before I could think he had got the 
saddle on my back and the bridle on my head. He just 
ran around for his coat, and then took me at a quick trot 
up to the Hall door. The Squire stood there, with a lamp 
in his hand. 

“ Now, John,” he said, “ ride for your life — that is, for 
your mistress’s life ; there is not a moment to lose. Give 
this note to Dr. White; give your horse a rest at the inn, 
and be back as soon as you can.” 

John said, “ Yes, sir,” and was on my back in a min- 
ute. The gardener who lived at the lodge had heard the 
bell ring, and was ready with the gate open, and away we 
went through the park, and through the village, and down 
the hill till we came to the toll-gate. John called very 
loud and thumped upon the door; the man was soon out 
and flung open the gate. 

“ Now,” said John, “ do you keep the gate open for the 
doctor ; here’s the money,” and off we went again. 

There was before us a long piece of level road by the 
river-side. John said to me, “ Now, Beauty, do your 
best,” and so I did. I wanted no whip nor spur, and for 
two miles I galloped as fast as I could lay my feet to the 

( 73 ) 


74 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


ground. I don’t believe that my old grandfather, who 
won the race at Newmarket, could have gone faster. When 
we came to the bridge, John pulled me up a little and 
patted my neck. ‘‘Well done, Beauty! good old fellow,” 
he said. He would have let me go slower, but my spirit 
was up, and I was off again as fast as before. The air was 
frosty, the moon was bright; it was very pleasant. We 
came through a village, then through a dark wood, then 
uphill, then downhill, till after an eight miles’ run we 
came to the town, through the streets and into the market- 
place. It was all quite still except the clatter of my feet 
on the stones — everybody was asleep. The church clock 
struck three as we drew up at Doctor White’s door. John 
rang the bell twice, and then knocked at the door like 
thunder. A window was thrown up, and Doctor White 
put his head out and said, “ What do you want?” 

“ Mrs. Gordon is very ill, sir ; master wants you to come 
at once; he thinks she will die if you cannot get there. 
Here is a note.” 

“ Wait,” he said, “ I will come.” 

He shut the window and was soon at the door. 

“The worst of it is,” he said, “that my horse has been 
out all day and is quite done up; my son has just been 
sent for, and he has taken the other. What is to be done? 
Can I have your horse?” 

“ He has come at a gallop nearly all the way, sir, and I 
was to give him a rest here; but I think my master would 
not be against it, if you think fit, sir.” 

“ All right,” he said; “ I will soon be ready.” 

John stood by me and stroked my neck ; I was very 
hot. The doctor came out with his riding-whip. 

“ You need not take that, sir,” said John ; “ Black 
Beauty will go till he drops. Take care of him, sir, if you 
can ; I should not like any harm to come to him.” 

“ No, no, John,” said the doctor, “ I hope not,” and in a 
minute we had left John far behind. 


GOING FOR THE DOCTOR. 


75 


I will not tell about our way back. The doctor was a 
heavier man than John, and not so good a rider ; how- 
ever, I did my very best. The man at the toll-gate had it 
open. When we came to the hill, the doctor drew me up. 
“ Now, my good fellow,” he said, “ take some breath.” I 
was glad he did, for I was nearly spent, but that breath- 
ing helped me on, and soon we were in the park. Joe was 
at the lodge gate ; my master was at the Hall door, for he 



“The Air was Frosty, the Moon was Bright.’ * 


had heard us coming. He spoke not a word ; the doctor 
went into the house with him, and Joe led me to the stable. 
I was glad to get home ; my legs shook under me, and 1 
could only stand and pant. I had not a dry hair on my 
body, the water ran down my legs, and I steamed all over 
— Joe used to say, like a pot on the fire. Poor Joe! he 
was young and small, and as yet he knew very little, and 
his father, who would have helped him, had been sent to 
the next village; but I am sure he did the very best he 


76 


BLACK BEATJTY. 


knew. He rubbed my legs and my chest, but he did not 
put my warm cloth on me; he thought I was so hot I 
should not like it. Then he gave me a pailful of water 
to drink; it was cold and very good, and I drank it all ; 
then he gave me some hay and some corn, and, thinking 
he had done right, he went away. Soon I began to shake 
and tremble, and turned deadly cold ; my legs ached, my 
loins ached, and my chest ached, and I felt sore all over. 
Oh ! how* I wished for my warm, thick cloth as I stood 
and trembled. I wished for John, but he had eight miles 
to walk, so I lay down in my straw and tried to go to 
sleep. After a long while I heard him at the door ; I gave 
a low moan, for I was in great pain. He was at my side in 
a moment, stooping down by me. I could not tell him 
how I felt, but he seemed to know it all ; he covered me 
up with two or three warm cloths, and then ran to the 
house for some hot water; he made me some warm gruel, 
which I drank, and then I think I went to sleep. 

John seemed to be very much put out. I heard him 
say to himself over and over again, “ Stupid boy ! stupid 
boy ! no cloth put on, and I dare say the water was cold, 
too ; boys are no good;” but Joe was a good boy, after all. 

I was now very ill ; a strong inflammation had attacked 
my lungs, and I could not draw my breath without pain. 
John nursed me night and day ; he would get up two or 
three times in the night to come to me. My master, too, 
often came to see me. “ My poor Beauty,” he said one 
day, “my good horse, you saved your mistress’s life. 
Beauty ; yes, you saved her life.” I was very glad to hear 
that, for it seems the doctor had said if we had been a lit- 
tle later it would have been too late. John told my mas- 
ter he never saw a horse go so fast in his life. It seemed as 
if the horse knew what was the matter. Of course I did, 
though John thought not; at least I knew as much as 
this — that John and I must go at the top of our speed, and 
that it was for the sake of the mistress. 



Black Beauty, 




CHAPTER XIX. 


ONLY IGNORANCE. 

I do not know how long I was ill. Mr. Bond, the horse- 
doctor, came every day. One day he bled me; John held 
a pail for the blood. I felt very faint after it, and thought 
I should die, and I believe they all thought so, too. 

Ginger and Merrylegs had been moved into the other 
stables, so that I might be quiet, for the fever had made 
me very quick of hearing ; any little noise seemed quite 
loud, and I could tell every one’s footstep going to and 
from the house. I knew all that was going on. One night 
John had to give me a draught ; Thomas Green came in 
to help him. After I had taken it and John had made me 
as comfortable as he could, he said he should stay half an 
hour to see how the medicine settled. Thomas said he 
would stay with him, so they went and sat down on a 
bench that had been brought into Merrylegs’s stall, and 
put down the lantern at their feet, that I might not be dis- 
turbed with the light. 

For a while both men sat silent, and then Tom Green 
said in a low voice — 

“ I wish, John, you’d say a bit of a kind word to Joe. 
The boy is quite broken-hearted; he can’t eat his meals, 
and he can’t smile. He says he knows it was all his fault, 
though he is sure he did the best he knew, and he says, if 
Beauty dies, no one will ever speak to him again. It goes 
to my heart to hear him. I think you might give him 
just a word ; he is not a bad boy.” 

After a short pause, John said slowly, “ You must not 
be too hard upon me, Tom. I know he meant no harm ; 

( 77 ) 


78 


BLACK BE A UTY. 


I never said he did; I know he is not a bad boy. But 
you see I am sore myself; that horse is the pride of my 
heart, to say nothing of his being such a favorite with 
the master and mistress ; and to think that his life may 
be flung away in this manner is more than I can bear. 
But if you think I am hard on the boy, I will try to give 
him a good word to-morrow — that is, I mean if Beauty is 
better. ” 

“ Well, John, thank you. I knew you did not wish to 
be too hard, and I am glad you see it was only ignorance.’’ 

John’s voice almost startled me as he answered, “ Only 
ignorance ! only ignorance ! how can you talk about only 
ignorance? DonH you know that it is the worst thing in the 
world, next to wickedness t And which does the most mis- 
chief Heaven only knows. If people can say, ‘ Oh ! I did 
not know, I did not mean any harm,’ they think it is all 
right. I suppose Martha Mulwash did not mean to kill 
that baby when she dosed it with Dalby and soothing 
syrups ; but she did kill it, and she was tried for man- 
slaughter.” 

“And served her right, too,” said Tom. “A woman should 
not undertake to nurse a tender little child without know- 
ing what is good and what is bad for it.” 

“ Bill Starkey,” continued John, “ did not mean to 
frighten his brother into fits when he dressed up like a 
ghost and ran after him in the moonlight; but he did; 
and that bright, handsome little fellow, that might have 
been the pride of any mother’s heart, is just no better 
than an idiot, and never will be, if he live to be eighty 
years old. You were a good deal cut up yourself, Tom, 
two weeks ago, when those young ladies left your hot- 
house door open, with a frosty east wind blowing right 
in ; you said it killed a good many of your plants.” 

“A good many !” said Tom ; “there was not one of the 
tender cuttings that was not nipped off. I shall have to 
strike all over again, and the worst of it is that I don’t 


JOE GREEN. 


79 


know where to go to get fresh ones. I was nearly mad 
when I came in and saw what was done.” 

“ And yet,” said John, “ I am sure the young ladies did 
not mean it ; it was only ignorance.” 

I heard no more of this conversation, for the medicine 
did well and sent me to sleep, and in the morning I felt 
much better; but I often thought of John’s words when 
I came to know more of the world. 


CHAPTER XX. 

JOE GREEN. 

Joe Green went on very well ; he learned quickly, and 
was so attentive and careful that John began to trust him 
in many things ; but, as I have said, he was small of his 
age, and it was seldom that he was allowed to exercise 
either Ginger or me; but it so happened one morning 
that John was out with Justice in the luggage cart, and 
the master wanted a note to be taken immediately to a 
gentleman’s house, about three miles distant, and sent his 
orders for Joe to saddle me and take it; adding the cau- 
tion that he was to ride steadily. 

The note was delivered, and we were quietly returning 
when we came to the brickfield. Here we saw a cart 
heavily laden with bricks; the wheels had stuck fast in 
the stiff mud of some deep ruts, and the carter was shout- 
ing and flogging the two horses unmercifully. Joe pulled 
up It was a sad sight. There were the two horses 
straining and struggling with all their might to drag the 
cart out, but they could not move it ; the sweat streamed 
from their legs and flanks, their sides heaved, and every 
muscle was strained, whilst the man, fiercely pulling at 
the head of the fore horse, swore and lashed most brutally. 


80 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


‘‘Hold hard!” said Joe; “ don’t go on flogging the 
horses like that ; the wheels are so stuck that they cannot 
move the cart.” 

The man took no heed, but went on lashing. 

“ Stop ! pray stop !” said Joe. “ I’ll help you to lighten 
the cart; they can’t move it now.” 

“ Mind your own business, you impudent young rascal, 
and I’ll mind mine !” The man was in a towering pas- 
sion and the worse for drink, and laid on the whip again. 
Joe turned my head, and the next moment we were go- 
ing at a round gallop toward the house of the master 
brickmaker. I cannot say if John would have approved 
of our pace, but Joe and I were both of one mind, and so 
angry that we could not have gone slower. 

The house stood close by the roadside. Joe knocked 
at the door, and shouted, “Halloo! Is Mr. Clay at 
home?” The door was opened, and Mr. Clay himself 
came out. 

“ Halloo, young man ! You seem in a hurry ; any 
orders from the Squire this morning ?” 

“ No, Mr. Clay, but there’s a fellow in your brickyard 
flogging two horses to death. I told him to stop, and he 
wouldn’t; I said I’d help him to lighten the cart, and he 
wouldn’t; so I have come to tell you. Pray, sir, go.” 
Joe’s voice shook with excitement. 

“ Thank ye, my lad,” said the man, running in for his 
hat; then pausing for a moment, “ Will you give evidence 
of what you saw if I should bring the fellow up before a 
magistrate?” 

“ That I will,” said Joe, “ and glad, too.” The man was 
gone, and we were on our way home at a smart trot. 

“Why, what’s the matter with you, Joe? You look 
angry all over,” said John, as the boy flung himself from 
the saddle. 

“ I am angry all over, I can tell you,” said the boy, and 
then in hurried, excited words he told all that had hap- 


JOE GREEN. 


81 


pened. Joe was usually such a quiet, gentle little fellow 
that it was wonderful to see him so roused. 



■ S' 


‘‘There is a Fellow Flogging Two Horses to Death.” 


“ Right, Joe! you did right, my boy, whether the fel- 
low gets a summons or not. Many folks would have rid- 

6 



82 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


den by and said ’twas not their business to interfere. Now , 
Is ty that with cruelty and oppression it is everybody's business to 
interfere ivhen they see it ; you did right, my boy." 

Joe was quite calm by this time, and proud that John 
approved of him, and he cleaned out my feet, and rubbed 
me down with a firmer hand than usual. 

They were just going home to dinner when the footman 
came down to the stable to say that Joe was wanted 
directly in master’s private room; there was a man 
brought up for ill-using horses, and Joe’s evidence was 
wanted. The boy flushed up to his forehead, and his 
eyes sparkled. “ They shall have it,” said he. 

“ Put yourself a bit straight,” said John. Joe gave a 
pull at his necktie and a twitch at his jacket, and was off 
in a moment. Our master being one of the county mag- 
istrates, cases were often brought to him to settle, or say 
what should be done. In the stable we heard no more for 
some time, as it was the men’s dinner hour, but when Joe 
came next into the stable I saw he was in high spirits ; he 
gave me a good-natured slap, and said, “ We won’t see 
such things done, will we, old fellow?” We heard after- 
wards that he had given his evidence so clearly, and the 
horses were in such an exhausted state, bearing marks of 
such brutal usage, that the carter was committed to take his 
trial, and might possibly be sentenced to two or three 
months in prison. 

It was wonderful what a change had come over Joe. 
John laughed, and said he had grown an inch taller in 
that week, and I believe he had. He was just as kind and 
gentle as before, but there was more purpose and deter- 
mination in all that he did — as if he had jumped at once 
from a boy into a man. 


CHAPTER XXL 


THE PARTING. 

I had now lived in this happy place three years, but 
sad changes were about to come over us. We heard from 
time to time that our mistress was ill. The doctor was 



“The First who went were Miss Jessie and Flora.’ ’ 


often at the house, and the master looked grave and anx- 
ious. Then we heard that she must leave her home at 
once, and go to a warm country for two or three years. 

( 83 ) 


84 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


The news fell upon the household like the tolling of a 
death-bell. Everybody was sorry ; but the master began 
directly to make arrangements for breaking up his estab- 
lishment and leaving England. We used to hear it talked 
about in our stable; indeed, nothing else was talked 
about. 

John went about his work, silent and sad, and Joe 
scarcely whistled. There was a great deal of coming and 
going. Ginger and I had full work. 

The first of the party who went were Miss Jessie and 
Flora with their governess. They came to bid us good- 
bye. They hugged poor Merry legs like an old friend, and 
so indeed he was. Then we heard what had been ar- 
ranged for us. Master had sold Ginger and me to his 

old friend, the Earl of W , for he thought we should 

have a good place there. Merrylegs he had given to the 
Vicar, who was wanting a pony for Mrs. Blomefield, but 
it was on the condition that he shoidd never be sold , and that 
when he was past work he should be shot and buried. 

Joe was engaged to take care of him and to help in the 
house, so I thought that Merrylegs was well off. John had 
the offer of several good places, but he said he should wait 
a little and look round. 

The evening before they left, the master came into the 
stable to give some direction, and to give his horses the last 
pat. He seemed very low r -spirited ; I knew that by bis 
voice. I believe we horses can tell more by the voice 
than many men can. 

“ Have you decided what to do, John ?” he said. “ I 
find you have not accepted either of those offers.” 

“ No, sir; I have made up my mind that if I could get 
a situation with some first-rate colt-breaker and horse- 
trainer, it would be the right thing for me. Many young 
animals are frightened and spoiled by wrong treatment, 
which need not be if the right man took them in hand. I 
always get on well with horses, and if I could help some 


THE PARTING. 


85 


of them to a fair start I should feel as if I was doing some 
good. What do you think of it, sir ?” 

“ I don’t know a man anywhere,” said master, “that I 
should think so suitable for it as yourself. You under- 
stand horses, and somehow they understand you, and in 
time you might set up for yourself; I think you could not 



“They Came to Bid us Good-Bye.” 


do better. If in any way I can help you, write to me. I 
shall speak to my agent in London, and leave your char- 
acter with him.” 

Master gave John the name and address, and then he 
thanked him for his long and faithful service, but that was 
too much for John. u Pray, don’t, sir, I can’t bear it ; you 
and my dear mistress have done so much for me that I 
could never repay it. But we shall never forget you, sir, 
and, please God, we may some day see mistress back again 


86 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


like herself; we must keep up hope, sir.” Master gave 
John his hand, but he did not speak, and they both left 
the stable. 

The last sad day had come ; the footman and the heavy 
luggage had gone off the day before, and there were only 
master and mistress and her maid. Ginger and I brought 
the carriage up to the Hall door for the last time. The 
servants brought out cushions and rugs and many other 
things, and when all were arranged, master came down 
the steps carrying the mistress in his arms (I was on the 
side next the house, and could see all that went on) ; he 
placed her carefully in the carriage, while the house-ser- 
vants stood round crying, 

“ Good-bye again,” he said ; “ we shall not forget any of 
you,” and he got in. “ Drive on, John.” 

Joe jumped up, and we trotted slowly through the park 
and through the village, where the people were standing 
at their doors to have a last look and to say, “ God bless 
them.” 

When we reached the railway station, I think mistress 
walked from the carriage to the waiting-room. I heard 
her say in her own sweet voice, “ Good-bye, John. God 
bless you.” I felt the rein twitch, but John made no an- 
swer; perhaps he could not speak. As soon as Joe had 
taken the things out of the carriage, John called him to 
stand by the horses while he went on the platform. Poor 
Joe ! he stood close up to our heads to hide his tears. Very 
soon the train came puffing up into the station ; then two or 
three minutes and the doors were slammed to, the guard 
whistled, and the train glided away, leaving behind it only 
clouds of white smoke and some very heavy hearts. 

When it was quite out of sight, John came back. 

“ We shall never see her again.” he said — “ never.” He 
took the reins, mounted the box, and with Joe drove 
slowly home ; but it was not our home now. 


PART II 


CHAPTER XXII. 

EARLSHALL. 

The next morning after breakfast, Joe put Merrylegs 
into the mistress’s low chaise to take him to the vicarage ; 
he came first and said good-bye to us, and Merrylegs 
neighed to us from the yard. Then John put the saddle 
on Ginger and the leading-rein on me, and rode us across 
the country about fifteen miles to Earlshall Park, where 

the Earl of W lived. There was a very fine house and 

a great deal of stabling. We went into the yard through 
a stone gateway, and John asked for Mr. York. It was 
some time before he came. He was a fine-looking, middle- 
aged man, and his voice said at once that he expected to 
be obeyed. He was very friendly and polite to John, and 
after giving us a slight look he called a groom to take us 
to our boxes, and invited John to take some refreshment. 

We were taken to a light, airy stable, and placed in 
boxes adjoining each other, where we were rubbed down 
and fed. In about half an hour John and Mr. York, who 
was to be our new coachman, came in to see us. 

“Now, Mr. Manly,” he said, after carefully looking at 
us both, “I can see no fault in these horses, but we all 
know that horses have their peculiarities as well as men, 
and that sometimes they need different treatment. I 
should like to know if there is anything particular in 
either of these that you would like to mention.” 


( 87 ) 


88 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


“Well,” said John, “I don’t believe there is a better 
pair of horses in the country, and right grieved I am to 
part with them, but they are not alike. The black one has 
the most perfect temper I ever knew ; I suppose he has 
never known a hard word or blow since he was foaled, 
and all his pleasure seems to be to do what you wish ; but 
the chestnut, I fancy, must have had bad treatment; we 
heard as much from the dealer. She came to us snappish 
and suspicious, but when she found what sort of place 
ours was, it all went off by degrees ; for three years I have 
never seen the smallest sign of temper, and if she is well 
treated there is not a better, more willing animal than she 
is. But she has naturally a more irritable constitution 
than the black horse ; flies tease her more ; anything wrong 
in the harness frets her more, and if she were ill-used or 
unfairly treated she would not be unlikely to give tit for 
tat. You know that many high-mettled horses will do so.” 

“ Of course/’ said York, “ I quite understand; but you 
know it is not easy in stables like these to have all the 
grooms just what they should be. I do my best, and 
there I must leave it. I’ll remember what you have said 
about the mare.” 

They were going out of the stable, when John stopped, 
and said, “ I had better mention that we have never used 
the check-rein with either of them ; the black horse never 
had one on, and the dealer said it was the gag-bit that 
spoiled the other’s temper.” 

“ Well,” said York, “ if they come here they must wear 
the check- rein. I prefer a loose rein myself , and his lordship is 
always very reasonable about horses ; but my lady — thaVs an- 
other thing ; she will have style, and if her carriage-horses 
are not reined up tight she wouldn’t look at them. I 
always stand out against the gag-bit, and shall do so, but 
it must be tight up when my lady rides /” 

“ I am very sorry for it, very sorry,” said John ; “ but I 
must go now, or I shall lose the train.” 


EARLSHALL. 


89 


He came round to each of us to pat and speak to us for 
the last time ; his voice sounded very sad. 

I held my face close to him ; that was all I could do to 
say good-bye; and then he was gone, and I have never 
seen him since. 

The next day Lord W came to look at us; he 

seemed pleased with our appearance. 

“I have great confidence in these horses,” he said, 
“ from the character my friend Mr. Gordon has given me 
of them. Of course they are not a match in color, but my 
idea is that they will do very well for the carriage while 
we are in the county. Before w T e go to London I must 
try to match Baron ; the black horse, I believe, is perfect 
for riding.” 

York then told him what John had said about us. 

“Well,” said he, “ you must keep an eye to the mare, 
and put the check-rein easy; I dare say they will do very 
well with a little humoring at first. I’ll mention it to your 
lady.” 

In the afternoon we were harnessed and put in the car- 
riage, and as the stable clock struck three we were led 
round to the front of the house. It was all very grand, 
and three or four times as large as the old house at Birt- 
wick, but not half so pleasant, if a horse may have an 
opinion. Two footmen were standing ready, dressed in 
drab livery, with scarlet breeches and white stockings. 
Presently we heard the rustling sound of silk as my lady 
came down the flight of stone steps. She stepped round 
to look at us; she was a tall, proud-looking woman, and 
did not seem pleased about something, but she said noth- 
ing, and got into the carriage. This was the first time of 
wearing a check-rein, and I must say, though it certainly 
was a nuisance not to be able to get my head down now 
and then, it did not pull my head higher than I was ac- 
customed to carry it. I felt anxious about Ginger, but 
she seemed to be quiet and content. 


90 


BLACK BE A UTY. 


The next day at three o’clock we* were again at the 
door, and the footmen as before ; we heard the silk dress 
rustle, and the lady came down the steps, and in an im- 
perious voice she said, “ York, you must put those horses' heads 
higher ; they are not fit to he seen” 

York got down and said, very respectfully, “ I beg your 
pardon, my lady, but these horses have not been reined 
up for three years, and my lord said it would be safer to 
bring them to it by degrees ; but if your ladyship pleases, 
I can take them up a little more.’ ’ 

“ Do so,” she said. 

York came round to our heads and shortened the rein 
himself, one hole, I think. Every little makes a difference, 
be it for better or worse, and that day we had a steep hill 
to go up. Then I began to understand what I had heard 
of. Of course I wanted to put my head forward and take 
the carriage up with a will, as we had been used to do ; 
but no, I had to pull with my head up now, and that took 
all the spirit out of me, and the strain came on my hack and legs. 
When we came in, Ginger said, “ Now you see what it is 
like; but this is not bad, and if it does not get much worse 
than this I shall say nothing about it, for we are very well 
treated here; but if they strain me up tight, why, let ’em 
look out! I can’t bear it, and I won’t.” 

Day by day, hole by hole, our bearing-reins were short- 
ened, and instead of looking forward with pleasure to hav- 
ing my harness put on, as I used to do, I began to dread it. 
Ginger, too, seemed restless, though she said very little. At 
last I thought the worst was over ; for several days there 
was no more shortening, and I determined to make the best 
of it and do my duty, though it was now a constant harass 
instead of a pleasure ; but the worst was not yet come. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


A STRIKE FOR LIBERTY. 

One day my lady came down later than usual, and the 
silk rustled more than ever. 

“ Drive to the Duchess of B ’s,” she said ; and then, 

after a pause, “ Are you never going to get those horses’ 
heads up, York? Raise them at once, and let us have no 
more of this humoring and nonsense.” 

York came to me first, while the groom stood at Ginger’s 
head. He dr etc my head back and fixed the rein so tight that 
it was almost intolerable ; then he went to Ginger, who was 
impatiently jerking her head up and down against the bit, 
as was her way now. She had a good idea of what was 
coming, and the moment York took the rein off the terret in 
order to shorten it she took her opportunity, and reared 
up so suddenly that York had his nose roughly hit and 
his hat knocked off; the groom was nearly thrown off his 
legs. At once they both flew to her head, but she was a 
match for them, and went on plunging, rearing, and kick- 
ing in a most desperate manner ; at last she kicked right 
over the carriage-pole and fell down, after giving me a 
severe blow on my near quarter. There is no knowing 
what further mischief she might have done had not York 
promptly sat himself down flat on her head to prevent her 
struggling, at the same time calling out, “ Unbuckle the 
black horse ! Run for the winch and unscrew the car- 
riage-pole ! Cut the trace here, somebody, if you can’t 
unhitch it!” One of the footmen ran for the winch, and 
another brought a knife from the house. The groom soon 

( 91 ) 


92 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


set me free from Ginger and the carriage, and led me to my 
box. He just turned me in as I was, and ran back to 
York. I was much excited by what had happened, and 
if I had ever been used to kick or rear I am sure I should 
have done it then; but I never had, and there I stood, an- 
gry, sore in my leg, my head still strained up to the terret 
on the saddle, and no power to get it down. I was very 
miserable, and felt much inclined to kick the first person 
who came near me. 

Before long, however, Ginger was led in by two grooms, 
a good deal knocked about and bruised. York came with 
her and gave his orders, and then came back to look at me. 
In a moment he let down my head. 

‘‘Confound these check-reins!” he said to himself; “I 
thought we should have some mischief soon. Master will 
be sorely vexed. But here, if a woman’s husband can’t 
rule her, of course a servant can’t; so I wash my hands 
of it, and if she can’t get to the Duchess’s garden party I 
can’t help it.” 

York did not say this before the men ; he always spoke 
respectfully when they were by. Now he felt me all over, 
and soon found the place above my hock where I had been 
kicked. It was swelled and painful; he ordered it to be 
sponged with hot water, and then some lotion was put on. 

Lord W was much put out when he learned what 

had happened; he blamed York for giving way to his 
mistress, to which he replied that in future he would much 
prefer to receive his orders only from his lordship ; but I 
think nothing came of it, for things went on the same as 
before. I thought York might have stood up better for 
his horses, but perhaps I am no judge. 

Ginger was never put in the carriage again, but when 

she was well of her bruises one of Lord W ’s younger 

sons said he should like to have her; he was sure she 
would make a good hunter. As for me, I was obliged 
still to go in the carriage, and had a fresh partner called 


A STRIKE FOR LIBERTY. 


93 


Max ; he had always been used to the tight rein. I asked 
him how it was he bore it. 

“ Well,” he said, “ I bear it because I must ; hut it is 
shortening my life, and it will shorten yours, too, if you 
have to stick to it.” 

“Do you think,” I said, “that our masters know how 
bad it is for us ?” 

“I can’t say,” he replied, “but the dealers and the 
horse-doctors know it very well. I was at a dealer’s once, 
who was training me and another horse to go as a pair ; 
he was getting our heads up, as he said, a little higher 
and a little higher every day. A gentleman who was there 
asked him why he did so. ‘Because,’ said he, ‘people 
won’t buy them unless we do. The London people al- 
ways want their horses to cany their heads high and to 
step high. Of course it is very bad for the horses, but then 
it is good for trade. The horses soon wear out, or get dis- 
eased, and they come for another pair.’ That,” said Max, 
“is what he said in my hearing, and you can judge for 
yourself.” 

What I suffered with that rein for four long months in 
my lady’s carriage would be hard to describe; but I am 
quite sure that, had it lasted much longer, either my 
health or my temper would have given way. Before that 
I never knew what it was to foam at the mouth, but now 
the action of the sharp bit on my tongue and jaw, and the 
constrained position of my head and throat, always caused 
me to froth at the mouth more or less. Some people think 
it very fine to see this, and say, “ What fine, spirited crea- 
tures !” But it is just as unnatural for horses as for men to 
foam at the mouth; it is a sure sign of some discomfort, 
and should be attended to. Besides this, there was a pres- 
sure on my windpipe, which often made my breathing 
very uncomfortable ; when I returned from my work, my 
neck and chest were strained and painful, my mouth and 
tongue tender, and I felt worn and depressed. 


94 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


In my old home I always knew that John and my mas- 
ter were my friends; but here, although in many ways I 
was well treated, I had no friend. York might have 
known, and very likely did know, how that rein harassed 
me ; but I suppose he took it as a matter of course that 
could not be helped ; at any rate, nothing was done to 
relieve me. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE LADY ANNE, OR A RUNAWAY HORSE. 

Early in the spring, Lord W and part of his family 

went up to London, and took York with them. I and 
Ginger and some other horses were left at home for use, 
and the head groom was left in charge. 

The Lady Harriet, who remained at the Hall, was a 
great invalid, and never went out in the carriage, and the 
Lady Anne preferred riding on horseback with her brother 
or cousins. She was a perfect horsewoman, and as gay 
and gentle as she was beautiful. She chose me for her 
horse, and named me “ Black Auster.” I enjoyed these 
rides very much in the clear, cold air, sometimes with 
Ginger, sometimes with Lizzie. This Lizzie was a bright 
bay mare, almost thoroughbred, and a great favorite with 
the gentlemen, on account of her fine action and lively 
spirit; but Ginger, who knew more of her than I did, told 
me she was rather nervous. 

There was a gentleman of the name of Blant} T re stay- 
ing at the Hall ; he always rode Lizzie, and praised her so 
much that one day Lady Anne ordered the side-saddle to 
be put on her, and the other saddle on me. When we 
came to the door, the gentleman seemed very uneasy. 

“ How is this ?” he said. “ Are you tired of your good 
Black Auster ?” 


THE LADY ANNE, OR A RUNAWAY HORSE. 


95 


“ Oh, no. not at all,” she replied, “ but I am amiable 
enough to let you ride him for once, and I will try your 
charming Lizzie. You must confess that in size and ap- 
pearance she is far more like a lady’s horse than my own 
favorite.” 

“ Do let me advise you not to mount her,” he said ; 
“ she is a charming creature, but she is too nervous for a 
lady. I assure you, she is not perfectly safe; let me beg 
you to have the saddles changed.” 

“ My dear cousin,” said Lady Anne, laughing, “ pray 
do not trouble your good, careful head about me. I have 
been a horsewoman ever since I was a baby, and I have 
followed the hounds a great many times, though I know 
you do not approve of ladies hunting ; but still that is the 
fact, and I intend to try this Lizzie that you gentlemen are 
all so fond of; so please help me to mount, like a good 
friend as you are.” 

There was no more to be said ; he placed her carefully 
on the saddle, looked to the bit and curb, gave the reins 
gently into- her hand, and then mounted me. Just as 
we were moving off, a footman came out with a slip of 
paper and message from the Lady Harriet. “ Would they 
ask this question for her at Dr. Ashley’s, and bring the 
answer?” 

The village was about a mile off, and the doctor’s house 
was the last in it. We went along gayly enough till we 
came to his gate. There was a short drive up to the house 
between tall evergreens. Blantyre alighted at the gate, 
and was going to open it for Lady Anne, but she said, 
“ I will wait for you here, and you can hang Auster’s rein 
on the gate. ” 

He looked at her doubtfully. “ I will not be five min- 
utes,” he said. 

“ Oh, do not hurry yourself ; Lizzie and I shall not run 
away from you.” 

He hung my rein on one of the iron spikes, and was 


96 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


soon hidden among the trees. Lizzie was standing quietly 
by the side of the road a few paces off, with her back to 
me. My young mistress was sitting easily with a loose 
rein, humming a little song. I listened to my rider’s foot- 
steps until they reached the house, and heard him knock 
at the door. There was a meadow on the opposite side of 
the road, the gate of which stood open; just then some 
cart horses and several young colts came trotting out in a 
very disorderly manner, while a boy behind was cracking 
a great whip. The colts were wild and frolicsome, and 
one of them bolted across the road, and blundered up 
against Lizzie’s hind legs; and whether it was the stupid 
colt, or the loud cracking of the whip, or both together, I 
cannot say, but she gave a violent kick, and dashed off 
into a headlong gallop. It was so sudden that Lady Anne 
was nearly unseated, but she soon recovered herself. I 
gave a loud, shrill neigh for help; again and again I 
neighed, pawing the ground impatiently, and tossing my 
head to get the rein loose. I had not long to wait. Blan- 
tyre came running to the gate ; he looked anxiously about, 
and just caught sight of the flying figure, not far away on 
the road. In an instant he sprang to the saddle. I needed 
no whip, no spur, for I was as eager as my rider ; he saw 
it, and giving me a free rein, and leaning a little forward, 
we dashed after them. 

For about a mile and a half the road ran straight, and 
then bent to the right, after which it divided into two 
roads. Long before we came to the bend she was out of 
sight. Which way had she turned ? A woman was stand- 
ing at her garden gate, shading her eyes with her hand, 
and looking eagerly up the road. Scarcely drawing the 
rein, Blantyre shouted, “ Which way?” “To the right!” 
cried the woman, pointing with her hand, and away we 
went up the right-hand road ; then for a moment we 
caught sight of her; another bend and she was hidden 
again. Several times we caught glimpses, and then lost 



“After a Struggle, I Threw Him Off Backwards.’’ 






















■# 





































































♦ 


















THE LADY ANNE, OR A RUNAWAY HORSE. 


97 


them. We scarcely seemed to gain ground upon them at 
all. An old road-mender was standing near a heap of 
stones, his shovel dropped and his hands raised. As we 
came near he made a sign to speak. Blantyre drew the 
rein a little. u To the common, to the common, sir; she 
has turned off there.” I knew this common very well ; it 
was for the most part very uneven ground, covered with 
heather and dark-green furze bushes, with here and there 
a scrubby old thorn-tree ; there were also open spaces of 
fine short grass, with ant-hills and mole-turns everywhere; 
the worst place I ever knew for a headlong gallop. 

We had hardly turned on the common, when we caught 
sight again of the green habit flying on before us. My 
lady’s hat was gone, and her long brown hair was stream- 
ing behind her. Her head and body were thrown back, 
as if she were pulling with all her remaining strength, and 
as if that strength were nearly exhausted. It was clear 
that the roughness of the ground had very much lessened 
Lizzie’s speed, and there seemed a chance that we might 
overtake her. 

While we were on the high-road, Blantyre had given 
me my head ; but now, with a light hand and a practiced 
eye, he guided me over the ground in such a masterly 
manner that my pace was scarcely slackened, and we were 
decidedly gaining on them. 

About half-way across the heath there had been a wide 
dike recently cut, and the earth from the cutting was cast 
up roughly on the other side. Surely this would stop 
them! But no; with scarcely a pause Lizzie took the 
leap, stumbled among the rough clods, and fell. Blantyre 
groaned, “ Now, Auster, do your best!” He gave me a 
steady rein. I gathered myself well together, and with 
one determined leap cleared both dike and bank. 

Motionless among the heather, with her face to the earth, 
lay my poor young mistress. Blantyre kneeled down and 
called her name ; there was no sound. Gently he turned 

7 


98 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


her face upward ; it was ghastly white, and the eyes were 
closed. “Annie, dear Annie, do speak!” But there was 
no answer. He unbuttoned her habit, loosened her collar, 
felt her hands and wrist, then started up and looked wildly 
round him for help. 

At no great distance there were two men cutting turf, 
who, seeing Lizzie running wild without a rider, had left 
their work to catch her. 

Blantyre’s halloo soon brought them to the spot. The 
foremost man seemed much troubled at the sight, and 
asked what he could do. 

“ Can you ride?” 

“ Well, sir, I bean’t much of a horseman, but I’d risk 
my neck for Lady Anne; she was uncommon good to my 
wife in the winter.” 

“ Then mount this horse, my friend — your neck will be 
quite safe — and ride to the doctor’s and ask him to come 
instantly; then on to the Hall; tell them all that you 
know, and bid them send me the carriage with Lady Anne’s 
maid and help. I shall stay here.” 

“ All right, sir, I’ll do my best, and I pray God the dear 
young lady may open her eyes soon.” Then seeing the 
other man, he called out, “ Here, Joe, run for some water, 
and tell my missis to come as quick as she can to the Lady 
Anne.” 

He then somehow scrambled into the saddle, and with 
a “ Gee up ” and a clap on my sides with both his legs, he 
started on his journey, making a little circuit to avoid the 
dike. He had no whip, which seemed to trouble him; but 
my pace soon cured that difficulty, and he found the best 
thing he -could do was to stick to the saddle, and hold me 
in, which he did manfully. I shook him as little as I could 
help, but once or twice on the rough ground he called out, 
“Steady! Whoa! Steady!” On the high-road we were 
all right, and at the doctor’s and the Hall he did his errand 
like a good man and true. They asked him in to take a 


THE LADY ANNE, OR A RUNAWAY HORSE. 


99 


drop of something. “ No, no,” he said, “ I’ll be back to 
’em again by a short cut through the fields, and be there 
afore the carriage.” 

There was a great deal of hurry and excitement after 
the news became known. I was just turned into my box; 
the saddle and bridle were taken off, and a cloth thrown 
over me. 

Ginger was saddled and sent off in great haste for Lord 
George, and I soon heard the carriage roll out of the yard. 

It seemed a long time before Ginger came back, and be- 
fore we were left alone, and then she told me all that she 
had seen. 

“ I can’t tell much,” she said. “ We went a-gallop nearly 
all the way, and got there just as the doctor rode up. There 
was a woman sitting on the ground with the lady’s head 
in her lap. The doctor poured something into her mouth, 
but all that I heard was, ‘ She is not dead.’ Then I was 
led off by a man to a little distance. After a while she 
was taken to the carriage, and we came home together. I 
heard my master say to a gentleman who stopped him to 
inquire, that he hoped no bones were broken, but that she 
had not spoken yet.” 

When Lord George took Ginger for hunting, York shook 
his head. He said it ought to be a steady hand to train a 
horse for the first season, and not a random rider like Lord 
George. 

Ginger used to like it very much, but sometimes when 
she came back I could see that she had been very much 
strained, and now and then she gave a short cough. She 
had too much spirit to complain, but I could not help 
feeling anxious about her. 

Two days after the accident, Blantyre paid me a visit ; 
he patted me and praised me very much; he told Lord 
George that he was sure the horse knew of Annie’s danger 
as well as he did. “ I could not have held him in if I 
would,” said he. “She ought never to ride any other 


100 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


horse.” I found by their conversation that my young 
mistress was now out of danger, and would soon be able 
to ride again. This was good news to me, and I looked 
forward to a happy life. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

REUBEN SMITH. 

I must now say a little about Reuben Smith, who was 
left in charge of the stables when York went to London. 
No one more thoroughly understood his business that he 
did, and when he was all right there could not be a more 
faithful or valuable man. He was gentle and very clever 
in his management of horses, and could doctor them al- 
most as well as a farrier, for he had lived two years with a 
veterinary surgeon. He was a first-rate driver; he could 
take a four-in-hand or a tandem as easily as a pair. He 
was a handsome man, a good scholar, and had very pleas- 
ant manners. I believe everybody liked him ; certainly 
the horses did. The only wonder was that he should be 
in an under situation, and not in the place of a head coach- 
man like York ; but he had one great fault, and that was 
the love of drink. He was not like some men, always at 
it; he used to keep steady for weeks or months together, 
and then he would break out and have a k ‘ bout ” of it, as 
York called it, and be a disgrace to himself, a terror to his 
wife, and a nuisance to all that had to do with him. He 
was, however, so useful that two or three times York had 
hushed the matter up, and kept it from the earl’s knowl- 
edge; but one night, wdien Reuben had to drive a party 
home from a ball, he was so drunk that he could not hold 
the reins, and a gentleman of the party had to mount the 


REUBEN SMITH. 


101 


box and drive the ladies home. Of course, this could not 
be hidden, and Reuben was at once dismissed. His poor 
wife and little children had to turn out of the pretty cot- 
tage by the park gate and go where they could. Old Max 
told me all this, for it happened a good while ago; but 
shortly before Ginger and I came Smith had been taken 
back again. York had interceded for him with the earl, 
who is very kind-hearted, and the man had promised 
faithfully that he would never taste another drop as long 
as he lived there. He had kept his promise so well that 
York thought he might be safely trusted to fill his place 
while he was away, and he was so clever and honest that 
no one else seemed so well fitted for it. 

It was now early in April, and the family was expected 
home some time in May. The light brougham was to be 
freshly done up, and as Colonel Blantyre was obliged to re- 
turn to his regiment, it was arranged that Smith should 
drive him to town in it, and ride back. For this purpose 
he took the saddle with him, and I was chosen for the 
journey. At the station the colonel put some money into 
Smith’s hand and hid him good-bye, saying, “ Take care 
of your young mistress, Reuben, and don’t let Black Aus 
ter be hacked about by any random young prig that wants 
to ride him — keep him for the lady.” 

We left the carriage at the maker’s, and Smith rode me 
to the White Lion, and ordered the ostler to feed me well 
and have me ready for him at four o’clock. A nail in one 
of my front shoes had started as I came along, but the 
ostler did not notice it till just about four o’clock. Smith 
did not come into the yard till five, and then he said he 
should not leave till six, as he had met with some old 
friends. The man then told him of the nail, and asked 
if he should have the shoe looked to. 

“ No,” said Smith, “that will be all right till we get 
home.” 

He spoke in a very loud, off-hand way, and I thought 


102 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


it very unlike him not to see about the shoe, as he was 
generally wonderfully particular about loose nails in our 
shoes. He did not come at six, nor seven, nor eight, and 
it was nearly nine o’clock before he called for me, and 
then it was with a loud, rough voice. He seemed in a 
very bad temper, and abused the ostler, though I could 
not tell what for. 

The landlord stood at the door and said, “ Have a care, 
Mr. Smith!” but he answered angrily with an oath, and 
almost before he was out of the town he began to gallop, 
frequently giving me a sharp cut with his whip, though I 
was going at full speed. The moon had not yet risen, and 
it was very dark. The roads were stony, having been re- 
cently mended ; going over them at this pace, my shoe 
became loose, and when we were near the turnpike gate it 
came off. 

If Smith had been in his right senses he would have 
been sensible of something wrong in my pace, but he was 
too madly drunk to notice anything. 

Beyond the turnpike was a long piece of road, upon 
which fresh stones had just been laid — large sharp stones, 
over which no horse could be driven quickly without risk 
of danger. Over this road, with one shoe gone, I was 
forced to gallop at my utmost speed, my rider meanwhile 
cutting into me with his whip, and with wild curses urg- 
ing me to go still faster. Of course my shoeless foot suf- 
fered dreadfully ; the hoof was broken and split down to 
the very quick, and the inside was terribly cut by the 
sharpness of the stones. 

This could not go on ; no horse could keep his footing 
under such circumstances; the pain was too great. I 
stumbled, and fell with violence on both my knees. 
Smith was flung off* by my fall, and, owing to the speed 
I was going at, he must have fallen with great force. I 
soon recovered my feet and limped to the side of the road, 
where it was free from stones. The moon had just risen 


HOW IT ENDED. 


103 


above the hedge, and by its light I could see Smith lying 
a few yards beyond me. He did not rise; he made one 
slight effort to do so, and then there was a heavy groan. 
I could have groaned, too, for I was suffering intense pain 
both from my foot and knees ; but horses are used to bear 
their pain in silence. I uttered no sound, but I stood 
there and listened. One more heavy groan from Smith ; 
but though he now lay in the full moonlight, I could see 
no motion. I could do nothing for him nor myself, but, 
oh ! how I listened for the sound of horse, or wheels, or 
footsteps ! The road was not much frequented, and at 
this time of the night we might stay for hours before help 
came to us. I stood watching and listening. It was a 
calm, sweet April night; there were no sounds but a few 
low notes of a nightingale, and nothing moved but the 
white clouds near the moon and a brown owl that flitted 
over the hedge. It made me think of the summer nights 
long ago, when I used to lie beside my mother in the green 
pleasant meadow at Farmer Grey’s. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

HOW IT ENDED. 

It must have been nearly midnight when I heard at a 
great distance the sound of a horse’s feet. Sometimes the 
sound died away, then it grew clearer again and nearer. 
The road to Earlshall led through woods that belonged to 
the Earl ; the sound came from that direction, and I hoped 
it might be some one coming in search of us. As the 
sound came nearer and nearer, I was almost sure I could 
distinguish Ginger’s step ; a little nearer still, and I could 
tell she was in the dog-cart. I neighed loudly, and was 


104 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


overjoyed to hear an answering neigh from Ginger and 
men’s voices. They came slowly over the stones, and 
stopped at the dark figure that lay upon the ground. 

One of the men jumped out and stooped down over it. 
“ It is Reuben,” he said, “and he does not stir!” 

The other man followed, and bent over him. “ He’s 
dead,” he said; “ feel how cold his hands are.” 

They raised him up, but there was no life, and his hair 
was soaked with blood. They laid him down again, and 
came and looked at me. The} 7, soon saw my cut knees. 

“ Why, the horse has been down and thrown him ! 
Who would have thought the black horse would have 
done that? Nobody thought he could fall. Reuben must 
have been lying here for hours ! Odd, too, that the horse 
has not moved from the place.” 

Robert then attempted to lead me forward. I made a 
step, but almost fell again. 

“ Halloo ! he’s bad in his foot as well as his knees. Look 
here— his hoof is cut all to pieces; he might well come 
down, poor fellow! I tell you what, Ned, I’m afraid it 
hasn’t been all right with Reuben. Just think of his rid- 
ing a horse over these stones without a shoe ! Why, if he 
had been in his right senses, he would just as soon have 
tried to ride him over the moon. I’m afraid it has been 
the old thing over again. Poor Susan ! she looked awfully 
pale when she came to my house to ask if he had not 
come home. She made believe &he was not a bit anxious, 
and talked of a lot of things that might have kept him. 
But for all that she begged me to go and meet him. But 
what must we do? There’s the horse to get home as well 
as the body, and that will be no easy matter.” 

Then followed a conversation between them, till it was 
agreed that Robert, as the groom, should lead me, and that 
Ned must take the body. It "was a hard job to get it into 
the dog-cart, for there was no one to hold Ginger; but she 
knew as well as I did what was going on, and stood as 


HOW IT ENDED. 


105 


still as a stone. I noticed that, because, if she had a fault, 
it was that she was impatient in standing. 

Ned started off very slowly with his sad load, and 
Robert came and looked at my foot again ; then he took 
his handkerchief and bound it closely round, and so he led 
me home. I shall never forget that night walk ; it was 
more than three miles. Robert led me on very slowly, 
and I limped and hobbled on as well as I could with great 
pain. I am sure he was sorry for me, for he often patted 
and encouraged me, talking to me in a pleasant voice. 

At last I reached my own box, and had some corn ; and 
after Robert had wrapped up my knees in wet cloths he 
tied up my foot in a bran poultice, to draw out the heat 
and cleanse it before the horse-doctor saw it in the morn- 
ing, and I managed to get myself down on the straw, and 
slept in spite of the pain. 

The next day, after the farrier had examined my 
wounds, he said he hoped the joint was not injured ; and 
if so, I should not be spoiled for work, but I should never 
lose the blemish. I believe they did the best to make a 
good cure, but it was a long and painful one. Proud flesh, 
as they called it, came up in my knees, and was burned 
out with caustic; and when at last it was healed, they put 
a blistering fluid over the front of both knees to bring all 
the hair off; they had some reason for this, and I suppose 
it was all right. 

As Smith’s death had been so sudden, and no one was 
there to see it, there was an inquest held. The landlord and 
ostler at the White Lion, with several other people, gave 
evidence that he was intoxicated when he started from the 
inn. The keeper of the toll-gate said he rode at a hard 
gallop through the gate; and my shoe was picked up 
amongst the stones, so that the case was quite plain to 
them, and I was cleared of all blame. 

Everybody pitied Susan. She was nearly out of her 
mind ; she kept saying over and over again, “ Oh ! he was 


106 


BLACK BE A UT*Y. 


so good — so good ! It was all that cursed drink ; why will 
they sell that cursed drink? 0! Reuben, Reuben !” So 
she went on till after he was buried ; and then, as she had 
no home or relation, she, with her six little children, was 
obliged once more to leave the pleasant home by the tall 
oak-trees and go into that great, gloomy Union House. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

RUINED, AND GOING DOWNHILL. 

As soon as mv knees were sufficiently healed I was 
turned into a small meadow for a ‘month or two ; no other 
creature was there, and though I enjoyed the liberty and 
the sweet grass, yet I had been so long used to society that 
I felt very lonely. Ginger and I had become fast friends, 
and now I missed her company extremely. I often neighed 
when I heard horses' feet passing in the road, but I seldom 
got an answer, till one morning the gate was opened, and 
who should come in but dear old Ginger. The man slipped 
off her halter and left her there. With a joyful whinny I 
trotted up to her ; we were both glad to meet, but I soon 
found that it was not for our pleasure that she was brought 
to be with me. Her story would be too long to tell, but 
the end of it was that she had been ruined by hard riding, 
and was now turned off to see what rest would do. 

Lord George was young and would take no warning ; he 
was a hard rider, and would hunt whenever he could get 
the chance, quite careless of his horse. Soon after I left 
the stable there was a steeplechase, and he determined to 
ride. Though the groom told she was a little strained, 
and was not fit for the race, he did not believe it, and on 
the day of the race urged Ginger to keep up with the fore- 


RUINED, AND GOING DOWNHILL. 


107 


most riders. With her high spirit, she strained herself to 
the utmost ; she came in with the first three horses, but 
her wind was touched, beside which he was too heavy for 
her, and her back was strained. a And so,” she said, 
“ here we are, ruined in the prime of our youth and 
strength, you by a drunkard and I by a fool; it is very 



“I was Shipped Off.” 


hard.” We both felt in ourselves that we were not 
what we had been. However, that did not spoil the 
pleasure we had in each other’s company; we did not gal- 
lop around as we once did, but we used to feed and lie 
down together, and stand for hours under one of the shady 
lime-trees with our heads close to each other ; and so we 
passed our time until the family returned from town. 

One day we saw the Earl come into the meadow, and 


108 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


York was with him. Seeing who it was, we stood still 
under our lime-tree, and let them come up to us. They 
examined us both carefully. The Earl seemed much 
annoyed. 

“ There is three hundred pounds flung away for no 
earthly use,” said he; “ but what I care for most is that 
these horses of my old friend, who thought they would 
find a good home with me, are ruined. The mare shall 
have a twelve months’ run, and we shall see what that will 
do for her ; but the black one must be sold ; ’tis a great 
pity, but I could not have knees like these in my stables.” 

“ No, my lord, of course not,” said York ; “ but he might 
get a place where appearance is not of much consequence, 
and still be well treated. I know a man in Bath, the 
master of some livery stables, who often wants a good 
horse at a low figure ; I know he looks well after his 
horses. The inquest cleared the horse’s character, and 
your lordship’s recommendation or mine would be suffi- 
cient warrant for him.” 

“You had better write to him, York. I should be 
more particular about the place than the money he would 
fetch.” 

After this they left us. 

“They’ll soon take you away,” said Ginger, “ I shall 
lose the only friend I have, and most likely we shall never 
see each other again. ’Tis a hard world !” 

About a week after this Robert came into the field with 
a halter, which he slipped over my head, and led me away. 
There was no leave-taking of Ginger ; we neighed to each 
other as I was led off, and she trotted anxiously along by 
the hedge, calling to me as long as she could hear the 
sound of my feet. 

Through the recommendation of York I was bought by 
the master of the livery stables. I had to go by train, 
which was new to me, and required a good deal of courage 
the first time ; but as I found the puffing, rushing, whist- 


A JOB HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS. 


109 


ling, and, more than all, the trembling of the horse-box 
in which I stood did me no real harm, I soon took it 
quietly. 

When I reached the end of my journey I found myself 
in a tolerably comfortable stable, and well attended to. 
These stables were not so airy and pleasant as those I had 
been used to. The stalls were laid on a slope instead of 
being level, and as my head was kept tied to the manger, 
I was always obliged to stand on the slope , which was very fa- 
tiguing. Men do not seem to know yet that horses can do 
more work if they can stand comfortably and can turn 
about ; however, I was well fed and well cleaned, and, on 
the whole, I think our master took as much care of us as he 
could. He kept a good many horses and carriages of dif- 
ferent kinds for hire. Sometimes his own men drove 
them ; at others, the horse and chaise were let to gentle- 
men or ladies who themselves drove. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A JOB HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS. 

Hitherto I had always been driven by people who at 
least knew how to drive ; but in this place I was to get my 
experience of all the different kinds of bad and ignorant 
driving to which we horses are subjected ; fori was a “job 
horse,” and was let out to all sorts of people who wished 
to hire me; and as I was good-tempered and gentle, I 
think I was oftener let out to the ignorant drivers than 
some of the other horses, because I could be depended 
upon. It would take a long time to tell of all the differ- 
ent styles in which I was driven, but I will mention a few 
of them. 


110 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


First, there were the tight-rein drivers — men who seemed 
to think that all depended on holding the reins as hard as 
they could, never relaxing the pull on the horse’s mouth, 
or giving him the least liberty of movement. They are 
always talking about “ keeping the horse well in hand,” 
and “ holding a horse up,” just as if a horse was not made 
to hold himself up. 

Some poor, broken-down horses, whose mouths have 
been made hard and insensible by just such drivers as 
these, may perhaps find some support in it; but for a 
horse who can depend upon his own legs, and who has a 
tender mouth and is easily guided , it is not only torment- 
ing, but it is stupid. 

Then there are the loose-rein drivers, who let the reins 
lie easily on our backs, and their hand rest lazily on their 
knees. Of course such gentlemen have no control over a 
horse, if anything happens suddenly. If a horse shies, or 
starts, or stumbles, they are nowhere, and cannot help the 
horse or themselves till the mischief is done. Of course, 
for myself I had no objection to it, as I was not in the 
habit of either starting or stumbling, and had only been 
used to depend on my driver for guidance and encourage- 
ment; still, one likes to feel the rein a little in going 
downhill, and likes to know that one’s driver has not gone 
to sleep. 

Besides, a slovenly way of driving gets a horse into bad 
and often lazy habits ; and when he changes hands he has 
to be whipped out of them with more or less pain and 
trouble. Squire Gordon always kept us to our best paces 
and our best manners. He said that spoiling a horse and 
letting him get into bad habits was just as cruel as spoil- 
ing a child, and both had to suffer for it afterwards. 

Besides, these drivers are often careless altogether, and 
will attend to anything else more than their horses. I 
went out in the phaeton one day with one of them ; he 
had a lady and two children behind. He flopped the 


A JOB HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS. 


Ill 


reins about as we started, and of course gave me several 
unmeaning cuts with the whip, though I was fairly off. 
There had been a good deal of road-mending going on, 
and even where the stones were not freshly laid down 
there were a great many loose ones about. My driver was 
laughing and joking with the lady and the children, and 
talking about the country to the right and to the left ; but 
he never thought it worth while to keep an eye on his 
horse, or to drive on the smoothest parts of the road ; and 
so it easily happened that I got a stone in one of my 
forefeet. 

Now, if Mr. Gordon, or John, or in fact any good driver, 
had been there, he would have seen that something was 
wrong before I had gone three paces. Or even if it had 
been dark, a practiced hand would have felt by the rein 
that there was something wrong in the step, and they 
would have got down and picked out the stone. But this 
man went on laughing and talking, while at every step 
the stone became more firmly wedged between my shoe 
and the frog of my foot. The stone was sharp on the in- 
side and round on the outside, which, as every one knows, 
is the most dangerous kind that a horse can pick up, at 
the same time cutting his foot, and making him most liable 
to stumble and fall. 

Whether the man was partly blind, or only very care- 
less, I can’t say ; but he drove me with that stone in my 
foot for a good half-mile before he saw anything. By that 
time I was going so lame with the pain that at last he saw 
it, and called out, “ Well, here’s a go! Why, they have 
sent us out with a lame horse! What a shame !” 

He then chucked the reins and flipped about with the 
whip, saying, “ Now, then, it’s no use playing the old 
soldier with me ; there’s the journey to go, and it’s no use 
turning lame and lazy.” 

Just at this time a farmer came riding up on a brown 
cob ; he lifted his hat and pulled up. 


112 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


“ I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, “ but I think there is 
something the matter with your horse ; he goes very much 
as if he had a stone in his shoe. If you will allow me, I 
will look at his feet ; these loose scattered stones are con- 
founded dangerous things for the horses.” 

“ He’s a hired horse,” said my driver. “ I don’t know 
what’s the matter with him, but it is a great shame to send 
out a lame beast like this.” 

The farmer dismounted, and, slipping his rein over his 
arm, at once took up my near foot. 

“ Bless me, there’s a stone ! Lame ! I should think so !” 

At first he tried to dislodge it with his hand ; but as it 
was now very tightly wedged, he drew a stone-pick out of 
his pocket, and very carefully, and with some trouble, got 
it out. Then holding it up, he said, “ There, that’s the 
stone your horse had picked up ; it is a wonder he did 
not fall down and break his knees into the bargain!” 

“Well, to be sure!” said my driver; “that is a queer 
thing ! I never knew that horses picked up stones before.” 

“ Didn’t you ?” said the farmer rather contemptuously ; 
“ but they do, though, and the best of them will do it, and 
can’t help it sometimes on such roads as these. And if 
you don’t want to lame your horse you must look sharp 
and get them out quickly. This foot is very much bruised,” 
he said, setting it gently down and patting me. “ If I 
might advise, sir, you had better drive him gently for a 
while; the foot is a good deal hurt, and the lameness will 
not go off directly.” 

Then mounting his cob and raising his hat to the lady, 
he trotted off. 

When he was gone my driver began to flop the reins 
about and whip the harness, by which I understood that 
I was to go on, which of course I did, glad that the stone 
was gone, but still in a good deal of pain. 

This was the sort of experience we job horses often 
came in for. 



He Sponged my Sides a Good While Tenderly. 




CHAPTER XXIX. 


COCKNEYS. 

Then there is the steam-engine style of driving; these 
drivers were mostly people from towns, who never had a 
horse of their own, and general^ travelled by rail. 

They always seemed to think that a horse was something like 
a steam-engine , only smaller. At any rate, they think that 
if only they pay for it a horse is bound to go just as far 
and just as fast and with just as heavy a load as they 
please. And be the roads heavy and muddy, or dry and 
good; be they stony or smooth, uphill or downhill, it is 
all the same — on, on, on, one must go, at the same pace, 
with no relief and no consideration. 

These people never think of getting out to w r alk up a 
steep hill. Oh, no, they have paid to ride, and ride they 
will ! The horse ? Oh, he’s used to it ! What were horses 
made for, if not to drag people uphill? Walk? A good 
joke indeed ! And so the whip is plied and the rein is 
chucked, and often a rough, scolding voice cries out, “ Go 
along, you lazy beast!” And then another slash of the 
whip, when all the time we are doing our very best to get 
along, uncomplaining and obedient, though often sorely 
harassed and down-hearted. 

This steam-engine style of driving wears us out faster 
than any other kind. I would far rather go twenty miles with 
a good , considerate driver than I would go ten with some of these ; 
it would take less out of me. 

Another thing, they scarcely ever put on the brake, how- 
ever steep the downhill may be, and thus bad accidents 
sometimes happen ; or if they do put it on, they often for- 

8 ( 113 ) 


114 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


get to take it off at the bottom of the hill, and more than 
once 1 have had to pull half-way up the next hill, with 
one of the wheels held by the brake, before my driver 
chose to think about it, and that is a terrible strain on a 
horse. 

Then these cockneys, instead of starting at an easy pace, 
as a gentleman would do, generally set off at full speed 
from the very stable-yard ; and when they want to stop, 
they first whip us, and then pull up so suddenly that we 
are nearly thrown on our haunches, and our mouths 
jagged with the bit — they call that pulling up with a 
dash : and when they turn a corner, they do it as sharply 
as if there were no right side or wrong side of the road. 

I well remember one spring evening I and Rory had 
been out for the day. (Rory was the horse that mostly 
went with me when a pair was ordered, and a good honest 
fellow he was.) We had our own driver, and, as he was 
always considerate and gentle with us, we had a very 
pleasant day. We were coming home at a good smart 
pace, about twilight. Our road turned sharp to the left, 
but as we were close to the hedge on our own side, and 
there was plenty of room to pass, our driver did not pull 
us in. As we neared the corner I heard a horse and two 
wheels coming rapidly down the hill toward us. The 
hedge was high, and I could see nothing, but the next 
moment we were upon each other. Happily for me, I 
was on the side next the hedge. Rory was on the left side 
of the pole, and had not even a shaft to protect him. The 
man who was driving was making straight for the corner, 
and when he came in sight of us he had no time to pull 
over to his own side. The whole shock came upon Rory. 
The gig shaft ran right into his chest, making him stagger 
back with a cry that I shall never forget. The other horse 
was thrown upon his haunches and one shaft broken. It 
turned out that it was a horse from our own stables, with 
the high-wheeled gig that the young men were so fond of. 


COCKNEYS. 


115 


The driver was one of those random, ignorant fellows 
who didn’t even know which is their own side of the road, 
or, if they knew, don’t care. And there was poor Rory 
with his flesh torn open and bleeding, and the blood 
streaming down. They said if it had been a little more 
to one side it would have killed him ; and a good thing 
for him, poor fellow, if it had. 

As it was, it was a long time before the wound healed, 
and then he was sold for coal-carting ; and what that is, up 
and down those steep hills , only horses know. Some of the 
sights I saw there, where a horse had to come downhill with 
a heavily loaded two-wheel cart behind him, on which no 
brake could be placed, make me sad even now to think of. 

After Rory was disabled, I often went in the carriage 
with a mare named Peggy, who stood in the next stall to 
mine. She was a strong, well-made animal, of a bright 
dun color, beautifully dappled, and with a dark-brown 
mane and tail. There was no high breeding about her, 
but she was very pretty, and remarkably sweet-tempered 
and willing. Still, there was an anxious look about her 
eye, by which I knew that she had some trouble. The 
first time we went out together I thought she had a very 
odd pace ; she seemed to go partly a trot, partly a canter, 
three or four paces, and then a little jump forward. 

It was very unpleasant for any horse who pulled with 
her, and made me quite fidgety. When we got home I 
asked her what made her go in that odd, awkward way. 

“Ah,” she said, in a troubled manner, “ I know my paces 
are very bad, but what can I do? It really is not my 
fault; it is just because my legs are so short. I stand 
nearly as high as you, but your legs are a good three inches 
longer above your knee than mine , and of course you can 
take a much longer step and go much faster. You see I 
did not make myself. I wish I could have done so ; I 
would have had long legs, then. All my troubles come 
from my short legs,” said Peggy, in a desponding tone. 


116 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


“ But how is it,” I said, “ when you are so strong and 
good-tempered and willing?” 

“ Why, you see,” said she, “ men will go so fast, and if 
one can’t keep up to other horses, it is nothing but whip, 
whip, whip, all the time. And so I have had to keep up 
as I could, and have got into this ugly, shuffling pace. It 
was not always so; when I lived with my first master I 
always went a good, regular trot; but then he was not in 
such a hurry. He was a young clergyman in the country, 
and a good, kind master he was. He had two churches a 
good way apart, and a great deal of work, but he never 
scolded or whipped me for not going faster. He was very 
fond of me. I only wish I was with him now ; but he 
had to leave and go to a large town, and then I was sold 
to a farmer. 

“ Some farmers, you know, are capital masters, but I 
think this one was a low sort of man. He cared nothing 
about good horses or good driving ; he only cared for going 
fast. I went as fast as I could, but that would not do, and 
he was always whipping ; so I got into this way of making 
a spring forward to keep up. On market nights he used to 
stay very late at the inn, and then drive home at a gallop. 

“ One dark night he was galloping home as usual, when 
all on a sudden the wheel came against some great heavy 
thing in the road, and turned the gig over in a minute. 
He was thrown out and his arm broken, and some of his 
ribs, I think. At any rate, it was the end of my living 
with him, and I was not sorry. But you see it will be the 
same everywhere for me, if men must go so fast. I wish 
my legs were longer !” 

Poor Peggy ! I was very sorry for her, and I could not 
comfort her, for I knew how hard it was upon slow-paced 
horses to be put with fast ones; all the whipping comes to their 
share , and they can’t help it. 

She was often used in the phaeton, and was very much 
liked by some of the ladies, because she was so gentle ; 



“Is That Pony Made of Flesh and Blood?” 




COCKNEYS. 


117 


and some time after this she was sold to two ladies who 
themselves drove, and wanted a safe, good horse. 

I met her several times out in the country, going a good, 
steady pace, and looking as gay and contented as a horse 
could be. I was very glad to see her, for she deserved a 
good place. 

After she left us, another horse came in her stead. He 
was young, and had a bad name for shying and starting, 
by which he had lost a good place. I asked him what 
made him shy. 

“ Well, I hardly know,” he said. “ I was timid when I 
was young, and was a good deal frightened several times, 
and if I saw anything strange I used to turn and look at 
it — you see with our blinkers one can’t see or understand 
what a thing is unless one looks around — and then my 
master always gave me a whipping, which, of course, made 
me start on, and did not make me less afraid. I think if 
he would have let me just look at things quietly, and see that 
there was nothing to hurt me, it would have been all right, 
and I should have got used to them. One day an old gen- 
tleman was riding with him, and a large piece of white 
paper or rag blew across just on one side of me. I shied 
and started forward. My master as usual whipped me 
smartly, but the old man cried out, £ You’re wrong ! you’re 
wrong! You should never whip a horse for shying; he 
shies because he is frightened, and you only frighten him 
more and make the habit worse.’ So I suppose all men 
don’t do so. I am sure I don’t want to shy for the sake 
of it; but should one know what is dangerous and what 
is not, if one is never allowed to get used to anything? I 
am never afraid of what I know. Now, I was brought up 
in a park where there were deer; of course I knew them 
as well as I did a sheep or a cow, but they are not com- 
mon, and I know many sensible horses who are fright- 
ened at them, and who kick up quite a shindy before they 
will pass a paddock where there are deer.” 


118 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


I knew what my companion said was true, and I wished 
that every young horse had as good masters as Farmer 
Grey and Squire Gordon. 

Of course we sometimes came in for good driving here. 
I remember one morning I was put into the light gig, and 
taken to a house in Pulteney street. Two gentlemen 
came out; the taller of them came round to my head ; he 
looked at the bit and bridle, and just shifted the collar 
with his hand, to see if it fitted comfortably. 

“ Do you consider this horse wants a curb ?” he said to 
his ostler. 

“ Well,” said the man, “ I should say he would go just 
as well without ; he has an uncommon good mouth, and 
though he has a fine spirit he has no vice ; but we gener- 
ally find people like the curb.” 

“ I don’t like it,” said the gentleman ; “ be so good as to 
take it off, and put the rein in at the check. An easy 
mouth is a great thing on a long journey, is it not, old fel- 
low?” he said, patting my neck. 

Then he took the reins, and they both got up. I can re- 
member now how quietly he turned me round, and then 
with a light feel of the rein, and drawing the whip gently 
across my back, we were off. 

I arched my neck and set off at my best pace. I found 
I had some one behind me who knew how a good horse 
ought to be driven. It seemed like old times again, and 
made me feel quite gay. 

This gentleman took a great liking to me, and after try- 
ing me several times with the saddle he prevailed upon 
my master to sell me to a friend of his, who wanted a safe, 
pleasant horse for riding. And so it came to pass that in 
the summer I was sold to Mr. Barry. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


A THIEF. 

My new master was an un- 
married man. He lived at 
Bath, and was engaged in 
business. His doctor advised 
him to take horse exercise, 
and for this purpose he 
bought me. He hired a 
stable a short distance from 
his lodgings, and engaged a 
man named Filcher as groom. 
My master knew very little 
about horses, but he treated 
me well, and I should have 
had a good and easy place but 
for circumstances of which he was ignorant. He ordered 
the best hay with plenty of oats, crushed beans, and bran, 
with vetches, or rye grass, as the man might think needful. 
I heard the master give the order, so I knew there was 
plenty of good food, and I thought I was well off. 

For a few days all went on well. I found that my groom 
understood his business. He kept the stable clean and 
airy, and he groomed me thoroughly, and was never 
otherwise than gentle. He had been an ostler in one of 
the great hotels in Bath. He had given that up, and now 
cultivated fruit and vegetables for the market, and his 
wife bred and fattened poultry and rabbits for sale. After 
a while it seemed to me that my oats came very short; 1 

( 119 ) 



120 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


had the beans, but bran was mixed with them instead of oats , of 
which there were very few ; certainly not more than a 
quarter of what there should have been. In two or three 
weeks this began to tell upon my strength and spirits. 
The grass food, though very good, was not the thing to 
keep up my condition without corn. However, I could 
not complain, nor make known my wants. So it went on 
for about two months, and I wondered my master did 
not see that something was the matter. However, one 
afternoon he rode out into the country to see a friend of 
his, a gentleman farmer, who lived on the road to Wells. 

This gentleman had a very quick eye for horses ; and 
after he had welcomed his friend he said, casting his eye 
over me — 

“ It seems to me, Barry, that your horse does not look 
so well as he did when you first had him ; has he been 
well?” 

“Yes, I believe so,” said my master; “but he is not 
nearly so lively as he was ; my groom tells me that horses 
are always dull and weak in the autumn, and that I must 
expect it.” 

“ Autumn, fiddlesticks !” said the farmer. “ Why, this 
is only August ; and with your light work and good food 
he ought not to go down like this, even if it was autumn. 
How do you feed him ?” 

My master told him. The other shook his head slowly, 
and began to feel me over. 

“ I can't say who eats your corn , my dear fellow, but I am 
much mistaken if your horse gets it. Have you ridden very 
fast?” 

“ No, very gently.” 

“Then just put your hand here,” said he, passing his 
hand over my neck and shoulder, “he is as warm and 
damp as a horse just come up from grass. I advise you 
to look into your stable a little more. I hate to be sus- 
picious, and, thank Heaven, I have no cause to be, for I 


A THIEF. 


121 


can trust my men, present or absent ; but there are mean 
scoundrels , wicked enough to rob a dumb beast of his food ; you 
must look into it.” And turning to his man who had 
come to take me, said, “ Give this horse a right good feed 
of bruised oats, and don’t stint him.” 



“ Dumb beasts!” Yes, we are; but if I could have 
spoken I could have told my master where his oats went 
to. My groom used to come every morning about six 
o’clock, and with him a little boy, who always had a 
covered basket with him. He used to go with his father 
into the harness-room, where the corn was kept, and I 
could see them, when the door stood ajar, fill a little bag 
with oats out of the bin, and then he used to be off. 

Five or six mornings after this, just as the boy had left 


122 


BLACK BEAUTY . 


the stable, the door was pushed open and a policeman 
walked in, holding the child tight by the arm ; another 
policeman followed and locked the door on the inside, 
saying, “ Show me the place where your father keeps his 
rabbits’ food.” 

The boy looked very frightened and began to cry ; but 
there was no escape, and he led the way to the corn-bin. 
Here the policeman found another empty bag like that 
which was found full of oats in the boy’s basket. 

Filcher w T as cleaning my feet at the time, but they soon 
saw him, and though he blustered a good deal they walked 
him off to the “ lock-up,” and his boy with him. I heard 
afterwards that the boy was not held to be guilty, but the 
man was sentenced to prison for two months. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

A HUMBUG. 

My master was not immediately suited, but in a few 
days my new groom came. He was a tall, good-looking 
fellow enough ; but if ever there was a humbug in the 
shape of a groom Alfred Smirk was the man. He was very 
civil to me, and never used me ill ; in fact, he did a great 
deal of stroking and patting, when his master was there 
to see it. He always brushed my mane and tail with 
water, and my hoofs with oil, before he brought me to the 
door, to make me look smart ; but as to cleaning my feet, 
or looking to my shoes, or grooming me thoroughly, he 
thought no more of that than if I had been a cow. He 
left my bit rusty , my saddle damp , and my crupper stiff. 

Alfred Smirk considered himself very handsome ; he 
spent a deal of time about his hair, whiskers, and necktie 


A HUMBUG. 


123 


before a little looking-glass in the harness-room. When 
his master was speaking to him it was always “ Yes, sir ; 
yes, sir ” — touching his hat at every word ; and every one 
thought he was a very nice young man, and that Mr. 
Barry was very fortunate to meet with him. I should 
say he was the laziest, most conceited fellow I ever came 
near. Of course it was a great thing not to be ill-used, but 
then a horse wants more than that. I had a loose box, 
and might have been very comfortable if he had not been 
too indolent to clean it out. He never took all the straw 
away, and the smell from what lay underneath was very had ; 
while the strong vapors that rose made my eyes smart and 
inflame, and I did not feel the same appetite for my food. 

One day his master came in and said, “ Alfred, the 
stable smells rather strong ; should not you give that stall 
a good scrub, and throw down plenty of water?” 

“ Well, sir,” he said, “ touching his cap, “I’ll do so if 
you please, sir; but it is rather dangerous, sir, throwing 
down water in a horse’s box ; they are very apt to take 
cold, sir. I should not like to do him an injury, but I’ll 
do it if you please, sir.” 

“ Well,” said his master, “ I should not like him to take 
cold, but I don’t like the smell of this stable. Do you 
think the drains are all right ?” 

“ Well, sir, now you mention it, I think the drain does 
sometimes send back a smell; there may be something 
wrong, sir.” 

“ Then send for the bricklayer and have it seen to,” said 
his master. 

“ Yes, sir, I will.” 

The bricklayer came, and pulled up a great many 
bricks, but found nothing amiss ; so he put down some 
lime, and charged the master five shillings, and the smell 
in my box was as bad as ever. But that was not all : 
standing as I did on a quantity of moist straw , my feet grew 
unhealthy and tender, and the master used to say,— 


124 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


“ I don’t know what is the matter with this horse ; he 
goes very fumble-footed. I am sometimes afraid he will 
stumble.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Alfred, “ I have noticed the same my- 
self, when I have exercised him.” 

Now the fact was that he hardly ever did exercise vie , and 
when the master was busy 1 often stood for days together without 
stretching my legs at all , and yet being fed just as high as if I 
were at hard work. This often disordered my health, and 
made me sometimes heavy and dull, but more often rest- 
less and feverish. He never gave me a meal of green food 
or a bran mash, which would have cooled me, for he was 
altogether as ignorant as he was conceited; and then, in- 
stead of exercise or change of food, I had to take horse- 
balls and draughts; which besides the nuisance of having 
them poured down my throat, used to make me feel ill 
and uncomfortable. 

One day my feet were so tender that, trotting over some 
fresh stones with my master on my back, I made two such 
serious stumbles that, as he came down Lansdown into 
the city, he stopped at the farrier’s, and asked him to see 
what was the matter with me. The man took up my feet 
one by one and examined them ; then standing up and 
dusting his hands one against the other, he said — 

“ Your horse has got the 1 thrush,’ and badly, too ; his 
feet are very tender ; it is fortunate that he has not been 
down. I wonder your groom has not seen to it before. 
This is the sort of thing we find in foul stables, where the 
litter is never properly cleaned out. If you will send him 
here to morrow I will attend to the hoof, and I will direct 
your man how to apply the liniment which I will give 
him.” 

The next day I had my feet thoroughly cleansed and 
stuffed with tow soaked in some strong lotion ; and a very 
unpleasant business it was. 

The farrier ordered all the litter to be taken out of my 



“The Bridge is Broken jn the Middle,” said John 








A HUMBUG. 


125 


box, day by day, and the floor kept very clean. Then I 
was to have bran mashes, a little green food, and not so 
much corn, till my feet were well again. With this treat- 
ment I soon regained my spirits; but Mr. Barry was so 
much disgusted at being twice deceived by his grooms that 
he determined to give up keeping a horse, and to hire when 
he wanted one. I was therefore kept till my feet were 
quite well, and was then sold again. 


PART III 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

A HORSE FAIR. 

No doubt a horse fair is a very amusing place to those 
who have nothing to lose ; at any rate, there is plenty to 
see. 

Long strings of young horses out of the country, fresh 
from the marshes ; and droves of shaggy little W elsh ponies, 
no higher than Merry legs ; and hundreds of cart horses of 
all sorts, some of them with their long tails braided up and 
tied with scarlet cord; and a good many like myself, 
handsome and high-bred, but fallen into the middle class 
through some accident or blemish, unsoundness of wind, 
or some other complaint. There were some splendid ani- 
mals quite in their prime, and fit for anything ; they were 
throwing out their legs and showing off their paces in 
high style, as they were trotted out with a leading-rein, 
the groom running by their side. But round in the back- 
ground there were a number of poor things, sadly broken 
down with hard work, with their knees knuckling over 
and their hind legs swinging out at every step ; and there 
were some very dejected-looking old horses, with the 
under-lip hanging down and the ears lying back heavily, 
as if there was no more pleasure in life, and no more hope ; 
there were some so thin you might see all their ribs, and 
some with old sores on their backs and hips. These were 
( 126 ) 


A HORSE FAIR. 127 

sad sights for a horse to look upon, who knows not but he 
may come to the same state. 

There was a great deal of bargaining, of running up and 
beating down; and, if a horse may speak his mind so far 
as he understands, I should say there were more lies told and 



“Showing off their Paces.” 


more trickery at that horse fair than a clever man could give an 
account of. I was put with two or three other strong, use- 
ful-looking horses, and a good many people came to look 
at us. The gentlemen always turned from me when they 
saw my broken knees, though the man who had me swore 
it was only a slip in the stall. 

The first thing was to pull my mouth open, then to look 
at my eyes, then feel all the way down my legs and give 
me a hard feel of the skin and flesh, and then try my 


128 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


paces. It was wonderful what a difference there was in 
the way these things were done. Some did it in a rough, 
off-hand way, as if one was only a piece of wood ; while 
others would move their hands gently over one’s body, 
with a pat now and then, as much as to say, “ By your 
leave.” Of course I judged a good deal of the buyers by 
their manners to myself. 

There was one man, I thought, if he would buy me I 
should be happy. He was not a gentleman, nor yet one 
of the loud, flashy sort that called themselves so. He was 
rather a small man, but well made, and quick in all his 
motions. I knew in a moment, by the way he handled 
me, that he was used to horses ; he spoke gently, and his 
gray eye had a kindly, cheery look in it. It may seem 
strange to say — but it is true all the same — that the clean, 
fresh smell there was about him made me take to him : no 
smell of old beer and tobacco , which I hated, but a fresh 
smell, as if he had come out of a hayloft. He offered 
twenty-three pounds for me ; but that was refused, and he 
walked away. I looked after him, but he was gone, and 
a very hard-looking, loud-voiced man came. I was dread- 
fully afraid he would have me, but he walked off. One 
or two more came who did not mean business. Then the 
hard-faced man came back again and offered twenty-three 
pounds. A very close bargain was being driven, for my 
salesman began to think he should not get all he asked, 
and must come down ; but just then the gray-eyed man 
came back again. I could not help reaching out my head 
toward him. He stroked my face kindly. 

“ Well, old chap,” he said, “ I think we should suit each 
other. I’ll give twenty-four for him.” 

“ Say twenty-five, and you shall have him.” 

“Twenty-four ten,” said my friend, in a very decided 
tone, “ and not another sixpence — yes, or no ?” 

“ Done,” said the salesman ; “ and you may depend 
upon it there’s a monstrous deal of quality in that horse, 


A HORSE FAIR. 


129 


and if you want him for cab work he is really a great 
bargain*. ’ ’ 

The money was paid on the spot, and my new master 
took my halter and led me out of the fair to an inn, where 
he had a saddle and bridle ready. He gave me a good 



“A Comfortable, Clean-Smelling Stall.” 


feed of oats, and stood by while I ate it, talking to him- 
self and talking to me. Half an hour after we were on 
our way to London, through pleasant lanes and country 
roads, until we came into the great London thoroughfare, 
on which we travelled steadily, till in the twilight we 
reached the great city. The gas lamps were already 
lighted ; there were streets to the right, and streets to the 
left, and streets crossing each other, for mile upon mile. 
I thought we should never come to the end of them. At 

9 


130 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


last, in passing through one, we came to a long cab stand, 
when my rider called out in a cheery voice, “ Good-night, 
Governor !” 

“ Halloo !” cried a voice. “ Have you got a good one ?” 

“ I think so,” replied my owner. 

“I wish you luck with him.” 

“Thank ye, Governor,” and he rode on. We soon 
turned up one of the side-streets, and about half-way up 
that we turned into a very narrow street with rather poor- 
looking houses on one side, and what seemed to be coach- 
houses and stables on the other. 

My owner pulled up at one of the houses and whistled. 
The door flew open and a young woman, followed by a 
little girl and boy, ran out. There was a very lively greet- 
ing as my rider dismounted. 

“ Now then, Harry, my boy, open the gates, and mother 
will bring us the lantern.” 

The next minute they were all standing round me in a 
small stable yard. 

“ Is he gentle, father?” 

“ Yes, Dolly, as gentle as your own kitten ; come and 
pat him.” 

At once the little hand was patting about over my shoul- 
der without fear. How good it felt ! 

“ Let me get him a bran mash while you rub him down,” 
said the mother. 

“ Do, Polly, it’s just what he wants ; and I know you’ve 
got a beautiful mash ready for me.” 

“Sausage dumpling and apple turnover!” shouted the 
boy, which set them all laughing. I was led into a com- 
fortable, clean-smelling stall with plenty of dry straw, and 
after a capital supper I lay down, thinking I was going to 
be happy. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


A LONDON CAB HORSE. 

My new master’s name was Jeremiah Barker, but as 
every one called him Jerry, I shall do the same. Polly, 
his wife, was just as good a match as a man could have. 
She was a plump, trim, tidy little woman, with smooth, 
dark hair, dark eyes, and a merry little mouth. The boy 
was nearly twelve years old, a tall, frank, good-tempered 
lad ; and little Dorothy (Dolly they called her) was her 
mother over again at eight years old. They were all won- 
derfully fond of each other; I never knew such a happy, 
merry family before or since. Jerry had a cab of his own, 
and two horses, which he drove and attended to himself. 
His other horse was a tall, white, rather large-boned ani- 
mal, called “Captain.” He was old now, but when he was 
young he must have been splendid ; he had still a proud 
way of holding his head and arching his neck ; in fact, he 
was a high-bred, fine-mannered, noble old horse, every 
inch of him. He told me that in his early youth he went 
to the Crimean War ; he belonged to an officer in the cav- 
alry, and used to lead the regiment. I will tell more of 
that hereafter. 

The next morning, when I was well groomed, Polly and 
Dolly came into the yard to see me and make friends. 
Harry had been helping his father since the early morn- 
ing, and had stated his opinion that I should turn out “ a 
regular brick.” Polly brought me a slice of apple, and 
Dolly a piece of bread, and made as much of me as if I 
had been the “ Black Beauty ” of olden time. It was a 
great treat to be petted again and talked to in a gentle 

(131 ) 


132 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


voice, and I let them see as well as I could that I wished 
to be friendly. Polly thought I was very handsome, and 
a great deal too good for a cab, if it was not for the broken 
knees. 

“ Of course there’s no one to tell us whose fault that was,” 
said Jerry, “ and as long as I don’t know I shall give him 
the benefit of the doubt; for a firmer, neater stepper I 
never rode. We’ll call him ‘Jack,’ after the old one — shall 
we, Polly ?” 

“ Do,” she said, “ for I like to keep a good name going.” 

Captain went out in the cab all the morning. Harry 
came in after school to feed me and give me water. In the 
afternoon I was put into the cab. Jerry took as much 
pains to see if the collar and bridle fitted comfortably as 
if he had been John Manly over again. When the crup- 
per was let out a hole or two, it all fitted well. There was 
no check-rein, no curb, nothing but a plain ring snaffle. 
What a blessing that was ! 

After driving through the side street we came to the 
large cab stand where Jerry had said “Good-night.” On 
one side of this wide street were high houses with wonder- 
ful shop fronts, and on the other was an old church and 
church-yard, surrounded by iron palisades. Alongside 
these iron rails a number of cabs were dra wn up, waiting for 
passengers ; bits of hay were lying about on the ground ; 
some of the men were standing together talking; some 
were sitting on their boxes reading the newspapers ; and 
one or two were feeding their horses with bits of hay, and 
giving them a drink of water. We pulled up in the rank 
at the back of the last cab. Two or three men came round 
and began to look at me and pass their remarks. 

“ Very good for a funeral,” said one. 

“ Too smart-looking,” said another, shaking his head in 
a very wise way ; “ you’ll find out something wrong one 
of these fine mornings, or my name isn’t Jones.” 

“Well,” said Jerry pleasantly, “I suppose I need not 



Coaxing, He Led Me out of the Stable. 







A LONDON CAB HORSE. 


133 


find it out till it finds me out, eh ? And if so, I’ll keep up 
my spirits a little longer.” 

Then there came up a broad-faced man, dressed in a 
great gray coat with gray capes and great white buttons, 
a gray hat, and a blue comforter loosely tied around his 
neck; his hair was gray, too; but he was a jolly-looking 
fellow, and the other men made way for him. He looked 
me all over, as if he had been going to buy me, and then 
straightening himself up with a grunt, he said, “ He’s the 
right sort for you, Jerry; I don’t care what you gave for 
him, he’ll be worth it.” Thus my character was estab- 
lished on the stand. 

This man’s name was Grant, but he was called “ Gray 
Grant,” or “Governor Grant.” He had been the longest 
on that stand of any of the men, and he took it upon him- 
self to settle matters and stop disputes. He was generally 
a good-humored, sensible man ; but if his temper was a 
little out, as it was sometimes when he had drunk too 
much, nobody liked to come too near his fist, for he could 
deal a very heavy blow. 

The first week of my life as a cab horse was very try- 
ing. I had never been used to London, and the noise, 
the hurry, the crowds of horses, carts and carriages, that 
I had to make my way through, made me feel anxious 
and harassed; but I soon found that I could perfectly 
trust my driver, and then I made myself easy, and got 
used to it. 

Jerry was as good a driver as I had ever known, and 
what was better, he took as much thought for his horses as he 
did for himself. He soon found out that I was willing to 
work and do my best; and he never laid the whip on me, 
unless it was gently drawing the end of it over my back, 
when I was to go on ; but generally I knew this quite well 
by the way in which he took up the reins ; and I believe 
his whip was more frequently stuck up by his side than 
in his hand. 


134 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


In a short time I and my master undersood each other 
as well as horse and man can do. In the stable, too, he 
did all that he could for our comfort. The stalls were the 
old-fashioned style, too much on the slope ; but he had 
two movable bars fixed across the back of our stalls, so 
that at night, when we were resting, he just took off our 
halters and put up the bars, and thus we could turn about 
and stand whichever way we pleased, which is a great 
comfort. 

Jerry kept us very clean, and gave us as much change 
of food as he could, and always plenty of it; and not only 
that, but he always gave us plenty of clean, fresh water, 
which he allowed to stand by us both night and day, ex- 
cept , , of course, when we came in warm. Some people say that 
a horse ought not to drink all he likes ; but I know if we 
are allowed to drink when we want it we drink only a lit- 
tle at a time, and it does us a great deal more good than 
swallowing down half a bucketful at a time, because we 
have been left without it till we are thirsty and miserable. 
Some grooms will go home to their beer and leave us for 
hours with our dry hay and oats and nothing to moisten 
them ; then of course we gulp down too much at once, 
which helps to spoil our breathing and sometimes chills 
our stomachs'. But the best thing that we had here was our Sun- 
days for rest / We worked so hard in the week that I do not 
think we could have kept up to it but for that day ; be- 
sides, we had time to enjoy each other’s company. It was 
on these days that I learned my companion’s history. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

AN OLD WAR HORSE. 

Captain had been broken in and trained for an army 
horse ; his first owner was an officer of cavalry going out 


AN OLD WAR HORSE. 


135 


to the Crimean War. He said he quite enjoyed the train- 
ing with all the other horses, trotting together, turning 
together, to the right hand or the left, halting at the word 
of command, or dashing forward at full speed at the sound 



“We were Swung Through the Air.” 


of the trumpet or signal of the officer. He was, when 
young, a dark, dappled iron gray, and considered very 
handsome. His master, a young, high-spirited gentle- 
man, was very fond of him, and treated him from the first 
with the greatest care and kindness. He told me he 
thought the life of an army horse was very pleasant; but 
when it came to being sent abroad over the sea in a great 
ship, he almost changed his mind. 


136 


BLACK BE A UTY. 


“ That part of it,” said he, “ was dreadful ! Of course 
we could not walk off the land into the ship ; so they 
were ultimately obliged to put strong straps under our 
bodies, and then we were lifted off our legs in spite of 
our struggles and were swung through the air over the 
water to the deck of the great vessel. There we were 
placed in small, close stalls, and never for a long time 
saw the sky, or were able to stretch our legs. The ship 
sometimes rolled about in high winds, and we were 
knocked about, and felt bad enough. However, at last 
it came to an end, and we were hauled up and swung 
over again to the land ; we were very glad, and snorted 
and neighed for joy when we once more felt firm ground 
under our feet. 

“ We soon found that the country we had come to was 
very different from our own, and that we had many hard- 
ships to endure besides the fighting ; but man} 7, of the 
men were so fond of their horses that they did everything 
they could to make them comfortable, in spite of snow, 
wet, and all things out of order.” 

“ But what about the fighting ?” said I ; “ was not that 
worse than anything else?” 

“ Well,” said he, “ I hardly know; we always liked to 
hear the trumpet sound, and to be called out, and were 
impatient to start off, though sometimes we had to stand 
for hours, waiting for the word of command ; and when 
the word was given, we used to spring forward as gayly 
and eagerly as if there were no cannon-balls, bayonets, or 
bullets. I believe so long as we felt our rider firm in the 
saddle, and his hand steady on the bridle, not one of us 
gave way to fear, not even when the terrible bombshells 
whirled through the air and burst into a thousand pieces. 

“ I, with my noble master, went into many actions to- 
gether without a wound, and though I saw horses shot 
down with bullets, pierced through with lances, and 
gashed with fearful sabre-cuts, though we left them dead 


AN OLD WAR HORSE. 


137 


on the field, or dying in the agony of their wounds, I 
don’t think I feared for myself. My master’s cheery 
voice, as he encouraged his men, made me feel as if he 
and I could not be killed. I had such perfect trust in him 
that while he was guiding me I was ready to charge up 
to the very cannon’s mouth. I saw many brave men cut 
down, many fall mortally wounded from their saddles. I 
had heard the cries and groans of the dying, I had can- 
tered over ground slippery with blood, and frequently had 
to turn aside to avoid trampling on wounded man or 
horse, but, until one dreadful day, I had never felt terror ; 
that day I shall never forget.” 

Here old Captain paused for a while and drew a long 
breath; I waited, and he went on. 

“ It was one autumn morning, and, as usual, an hour 
before daybreak our cavalry had turned out, ready capari- 
soned for the day’s work, whether it might be fighting or 
waiting. The men stood by their horses waiting, ready 
for orders. As the light increased there seemed to be some 
excitement among the officers, and before the day was 
well begun we heard the firing of the enemy’s guns. 

“ Then one of the officers rode up and gave the word 
for the men to mount, and in a second every man was in 
his saddle, and every horse stood expecting the touch of 
the rein or the pressure of his rider’s heels, all animated, 
all eager ; but still we had been trained so well that, ex- 
cept by the champing of our bits and the restive tossing 
of our heads from time to time, it could not be said that 
we stirred. 

“ My dear master and I were at the head of the line, 
and as all sat motionless and watchful, he took a little 
stray lock of my mane which had turned over on the 
wrong side, laid it over on the right, and smoothed it down 
with his hand ; then patting my neck, he said, 4 We shall 
have a day of it to-day, Bayard, my beauty ; but we’ll do 
our duty as we have done.’ He stroked my neck that 


138 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


morning more, I think, than he had ever done before ; 
quietly on and on, as if he were thinking of something 
else. I loved to feel his hand on my neck, and arched my 
crest proudly and happily ; but I stood very still, for I 
knew all his moods, and when he liked me to be quiet, 
and when gay. 

“ I cannot tell all that happened on that day, but I will 
tell of the last charge that we made together : it was across 
a valley right in front of the enemy’s cannon. By this 
time we were well used to the roar of heavy guns, the 
rattle of musketry fire, and the flying of shot near us; but 
never had I been under such a fire as we rode through on 
that day. From the right, from the left, and from the 
front, shot and shell poured in upon us. Many a brave 
man went down, many a horse fell, flinging his rider to 
the earth ; many a horse without a rider ran wildly out 
of the ranks ; then, terrified at being alone, with no hand 
to guide him, came pressing in amongst his old compan- 
ions, to gallop with them to the charge. 

“ Fearful as it was, no one stopped, no one turned back. 
Every moment the ranks were thinned, but as our com- 
rades fell we closed in to keep them together ; and instead 
of being shaken or staggered in our pace, our gallop be- 
came faster and faster as we neared the cannon, all clouded 
in white smoke, while the red fire flashed through it. 

“ My master, my dear master, was cheering on his com- 
rades with his right arm raised on high, when one of the 
balls whizzing close to my head struck him. I felt him 
stagger with the shock, though he uttered no cry ; I tried 
to check my speed, but the sword dropped from his right 
hand, the rein fell loose from the left, and sinking back- 
ward from the saddle, he fell to the earth ; the other riders 
swept past us, and by the force of their charge I was driven 
from the spot where he fell. 

“ I wanted to keep my place by his side and not leave 
him under that rush of horses’ feet, but it was in vain ; 


AN OLD WAR HORSE. 


139 


and now, without a master or a friend, I was alone on that 
great slaughter-ground. Then fear took hold of me, and I 
trembled as I had never trembled before ; and I too, as I 
had seen other horses do, tried to join in the ranks and 
gallop with them ; but I was beaten off by the swords of 



“On Purpose to Kill Them.” 


the soldiers. Just then, a soldier whose horse had been 
killed under him caught at my bridle and mounted me, 
and with this new master I was again going forward ; but 
our gallant company was cruelly overpowered, and those 
who remained alive after the fierce fight for the guns came 
galloping back over the same ground. Some of the horses 
had been so badly wounded that they could scarcely move 
from the loss of blood ; other noble creatures were trying 
on three legs to drag themselves along, and others were 
struggling to rise on their forefeet, when their hind legs 


140 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


had been shattered by shot. Their groans were piteous 
to hear, and the beseeching look in their eyes as those who 
escaped passed by, and left them to their fate, I shall 
never forget. After the battle the wounded men were 
brought in, and the dead were buried.” 

“ And what about the wounded horses?” I said; “ were 
they left to die ?” 

“ No, the army farriers went over the field with their 
pistols and shot all that were ruined ; some that had only 
slight wounds were brought back and attended to, but the 
greater part of the noble, willing creatures that went out 
that morning never came back ! In our stables there was 
only about one in four that returned. 

“ I never saw my dear master again. I believe he fell 
dead from the saddle. I never loved any other master so 
well. I went into many other engagements, but was only 
once wounded, and then not seriously ; and when the war 
was over I came back again to England, as sound and 
strong as when I went out.” 

I said, “ I have heard people talk about war as if it was 
a very fine thing.” 

“ Ah !” said he, “ I should think they never saw it. No 
doubt it is very fine when there is no enemy, when it is 
just exercise and parade, and sham fight. Yes, it is very 
fine then ; but when thousands of good, brave men and 
horses are killed or crippled for life, it has a very different 
look.” 

“ Do you know what they fought about f n said I. 

“No,” he said, “that is more than a horse can under- 
stand ; but the enemy must have been awfully wicked 
people, if it was right to go all that way over the sea on 
purpose to kill them.” 



“Her Hat was Gone -Her Hair Streaming Behind Her.” 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


JERRY BARKER. 


I never knew a better man than my new master. He 
was kind and good, and as strong for the right as John 

Manly; and so good-tem- 
pered and merry, that very 
few people could pick a 
quarrel with him. He was 
very fond of making little 
songs, and singing them to 
himself. One he was very 
fond of was this : 

“ Come, father and mother, 
And sister and brother, 
Come all of you, turn to 
And help one another.” 

And so they did ; Harry 
was as clever at stable-work 
as a much older boy, and 
always wanted to do what 
he could. Then Polly and 
Dolly used to come in the 
morning to help with the 
cab — to brush and beat the 
cushions, and rub the glass, 
while Jerry was giving us a 
cleaning in the yard, and 
Harry was rubbing the har- 
ness. There used to be a great deal of laughing and fun 

( 141 ) 



“Jerry Barker.” 


142 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


between them, and it put Captain and me in much better 
spirits than if we had heard scolding and hard words. 
They were always up early in the morning, for Jerry would 
say; 

“ If you in the morning 
Throw minutes away, 

You can’t pick them up 
In the course of the day ; 

You may hurry and scurry, 

And flurry and worry, 

You’ve lost them forever, 

Forever and aye.” 

He could not bear any careless loitering and waste of 
time ; and nothing was so near making him angry as to 
find people, who were always late, wanting a cab horse to 
be driven hard, to make up for their idleness. 

One day two wild-looking young men came out of a 
tavern close by the stand and called Jerry. 

“ Here, cabby ! look sharp, we are rather late ; put on 
the steam, will you, and take us to the Victoria in time 
for the one o’clock train ? You shall have a shilling extra.” 

“ I will take you at the regular pace, gentlemen; shillings don’t 
pay for putting on steam like that.” 

Larry’s cab was standing next to ours ; he flung open 
the door and said, “ I’m your man, gentlemen ! take my 
cab ; my horse will get you there all right;” and as he shut 
them in with a wink toward Jerry, said, “ It’s against his 
conscience to go beyond a jog-trot.” Then slashing his 
jaded horse, he set off as hard as he could. Jerry patted 
me on the neck : “ No, Jack, a shilling would not pay for 
that sort of thing — would it, old boy ?” 

Although Jerry was determinately set against hard 
driving to please careless people, he always went a good, 
fair pace, and was not against putting on the steam, as he 
said, if only he knew why. 

I well remember one morning, as we were on the stand 


JERRY BARKER. 


143 


waiting for a fare, that a young man, carrying a heavy 
portmanteau, trod on a piece of orange peel which lay on 
the pavement, and fell down with great force. 

Jerry was the first to run and lift him up. He seemed 
much stunned, and as they led him into a shop he walked 
as if he were in great pain. Jerry, of course, came back 
to the stand, but in about ten minutes one of the shop- 
men called him, so we drew up to the pavement. 

“ Can you take me to the South-Eastern Railway ?” said 
the young man; “this unlucky fall has made me late, I 
fear; but it is of great importance that I should not lose 
the twelve o’clock train. I should be most thankful if you 
could get me there in time, and will gladly pay you an 
extra fare.” 

“ I’ll do my very best,” said Jerry heartily. “ If you 
think you are well enough, sir,” for he looked dreadfully 
white and ill. 

“ I must go,” he said earnestly ; “ please to open the door, 
and let us lose no time.” 

The next minute Jerry was on the box, w T ith a cheery 
chirrup to me and a twitch of the rein that I well under- 
stood. 

“ Now, then, Jack, my boy,” said he, “ spin along ; we’ll 
show them how we can get over the ground, if we only 
know wdiy.” 

It is always difficult to drive fast in the city in the middle 
of the day, when the streets are full of traffic, but we did 
what could be done ; and when a good driver and a good 
horse, who understand each other, are of one mind, it is 
wonderful what they can do. I had a very good mouth— 
that is, I could be guided by the slightest touch of the 
rein ; and that is a great thing in London, amongst car- 
riages, omnibuses, carts, vans, trucks, cabs, and great 
wagons creeping along at a walking pace ; some going one 
way, some another, some going slowly, others wanting to 
pass them ; omnibuses stopping short every few minutes 


144 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


to take up a passenger, obliging the horse that is coming 
to pull up too, or to pass, and get before them ; per- 
haps you try to pass, but just then something else comes 
dashing in through the narrow opening, and you have to 
keep in behind the omnibus again ; presently you think 
you see a chance and manage to get to the front, getting 
so near the wheels on each side that half an inch nearer 
and they would scrape. Well — you get along for a bit, 
but soon find yourself in a long train of carts and car- 
riages all obliged to go at a walk ; perhaps you come to a 
regular block-up, and have to stand still for minutes to- 
gether, till something clears out into a side street or the 
policeman interferes ; you have to be ready for any chance 
— to dash forward if there be an opening, and be quick as 
a rat dog to see if there be room and if there be time, lest 
you get your own wheels locked or smashed, or the shaft 
of some other vehicle run into your chest or shoulder. 
All this is what you have to be ready for. If you want 
to get through London fast in the middle of the day, it 
wants a deal of practice. 

Jerry and I were used to it, and no one could beat us at 
getting through when we were set upon it. I was quick 
and bold and could always trust my driver; Jerry was 
quick and patient at the same time, and could trust his 
horse, which was a great thing, too. He very seldom used 
the whip ; I knew by his voice, and his click, click, when 
he wanted to get on fast, and by the rein where I was to 
go; so there was no need for whipping. But I must go 
back to my story. 

The streets were very full that day, but we got on pretty 
well as far as the bottom of Cheapside, where there was a 
block for three or four minutes. The young man put his 
head out and said, anxiously, “ I think I had better get 
out and walk; I shall never get there if this goes on.” 

“ I’ll do all that can be done, sir,’’ said Jerry ; “ I think 
we shall be in time; this block-up cannot last much 





















































JERRY BARKER. 


145 


longer, and your luggage is very heavy for you to carry, 
sir.” 

Just then the cart in front of us began to move on, and 
then we had a good turn. In and out — in and out we 
went, as fast as horse-flesh could do it, and for a wonder 
had a good clear time on London Bridge, for there was a 
whole train of cabs and carriages, all going our way at a 
quick trot — perhaps wanting to catch that very train ; at 
any rate, we whirled into the station, with many more, 
just as the great clock pointed to eight minutes to twelve 
o’clock. 

“Thank God! we are in time,” said the young man, 
“ and thank you, too, my friend, and your good horse ; 
you have saved me more than money can ever pay for; 
take this extra half-crown.” 

“ No, sir, no, thank you all the same ; so glad we hit the 
time, sir; but don’t stay now, sir, the bell is ringing. 
Here, porter! take this gentleman’s luggage — Dover line 
— twelve o’clock train — that’s it,” and without waiting for 
another word, Jerry wheeled me round to make room for 
other cabs that were dashing up at the last minute, and 
drew up on one side till the crush was passed. 

“So glad!” he said, “so glad! poor young fellow! I 
wonder what it was that made him so anxious ?” 

Jerry often talked to himself quite loud enough for me 
to hear, when we were not moving. 

On Jerry’s return to the rank, there was a good deal of 
laughing and chaffing at him for driving hard to the train 
for an extra fare, as they said, all against his principles, 
and they wanted to know how much he had pocketed. 

“A good deal more than I generally get,” said he, nod- 
ding slyly; “what he gave me will keep me in little com- 
forts for several days.” 

“ Gammon !” said one. 

“He’s a humbug,” said another, “preaching to us, and 
then doing the same himself.” 

10 


146 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


“ Look here, mates/* said Jerry, “ the gentleman offered 
me half-a-crown extra, but I didn’t take it; ’twas quite 
pay enough for me to see how glad he was to catch that 
train; and if Jack and I choose to have a quick run now 
aud then, to please ourselves, that’s our business and not 
yours.” 

“ Well,” said Larry, “ you’ll never be a rich man.” 

“Most likely not,” said Jerry, “but I don’t know that 
I shall be the less happy for that. I have heard the 
Commandments read a great many times, and I never 
noticed that any of them said ‘ Thou shalt be rich ;’ and 
there are a good many curious things said in the New 
Testament about rich men that I think would make me 
feel rather queer if I was one of them.” 

“ If you ever do get rich,” said Governor Gray, looking 
over his shoulder across the top of his cab, “ you’ll deserve 
it, Jerry, and you won’t find a curse come with your 
wealth. As for you, Larry, you’ll die poor; you spend too 
much in whipcord.” 

“ Well,” said Larry, “ w T hat is a fellow to do if his horse 
won’t go without it?” 

“ You never take the trouble to see if he will go without 
it; your whip is always going as if you had the St. Vitus’ 
dance in your arm ; and if it does not wear you out it 
wears your horse out. You know you are always chang- 
ing your horses, and why? because you never give them 
any peace or encouragement.” 

“Well, I have not had good luck,” said Larry ; “ that’s 
where it is.” 

“And you never will,” said the Governor. “ Good Luck 
is rather particular who she rides with, and mostly prefers 
those who have got common sense and a good heart; at 
least, that is my experience.” 

Governor Gray turned round again to his newspaper, 
and the other men went to their cabs. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


THE SUNDAY CAB. 


One morning as Jerry had just put me into the shafts 
and was fastening the traces a gentleman walked into the 
yard. “ Your servant, sir,” said Jerry. 



“Sunday Rest.” 

“ Good-morning, Mr. Barker,” said the gentleman. “ I 
should be glad to make some arrangements with you for 
taking Mrs. Briggs regularly to church on Sunday morn- 

( 147 ) 


148 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


ings. We go to the New Church now, and that is rather 
further than she can walk.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Jerry, “ but I have only taken 
out a six-days’ license,* and therefore I could not take a 
fare on a Sunday ; it would not be legal.” 

“ Oh !” said the other, “ I did not know yours was a six- 
days’ cab ; but of course it would be very easy to alter 
your license. I would see that you did not lose by it. The 
fact is, Mrs. Briggs very much prefers you to drive her.” 

“ I should be glad to oblige the lady, sir, but I had a 
seven days’ license once, and the work was too hard for 
me, and too hard for my horses. Year in and year out, not a 
day’s rest, and never a Sunday with my wife and children ; 
and never able to go to a place of worship, which I had 
always been used to do before I took the driving box. So 
for the last five years I have only taken a six-days’ license, 
and I find it better all the way round.” 

“ Well, of course,” replied Mr. Briggs, “ it is proper that 
every person should have rest, and be able to go to church 
on Sundays, but I should have thought that you would 
not have minded such a short distance for the horse, 
and only once a day ; you would have all the afternoon 
and evening for yourself ; and we are very good customers, 
you know.” 

“ Yes, sir, that is true, and I am grateful for all favors, I 
am sure, and anything that I could do to oblige you or the 
lady I should be proud and happy to do; but I can’t give 
up my Sundays, sir, indeed I can’t. I read that God 
made man, and He made horses , and all the other beasts, 
and as soon as He made them He made a day of rest, and 
bade that all should rest one day in seven ; and I think, sir, 
He must have known what was good for them, and I am 


* A few years since the annual charge for a cab license was very much 
reduced, and the difference between the six and seven days’ cabs was 
abolished. 


THE SUNDAY CAB. 


149 


sure it is good for me ; I am stronger and healthier alto- 
gether, now that I have a day of rest; the horses are 
fresh, too, and do not wear out nearly so fast. The six-day 
drivers all tell me the same, and I have laid by more 
money in the Savings’ Bank than ever I did before ; and 
as for the wife and children, sir, why, heart alive ! they 
would not go back to the seven days for all they could see.” 

“ Oh, very well,” said the gentleman. “ Don’t trouble 
yourself, Mr. Barker, any further. I will inquire some- 
where else and he walked away. 

“ Well,” says Jerry to me, “ we can’t help it, Jack, old 
bo}^ ; we must have our Sundays.” 

“ Polly !” he shouted, “ Polly ! come here.” 

She was there in a minute. 

“ What is it all about, Jerry ?” 

“ Why, my dear, Mr. Briggs wants me to take Mrs. Briggs 
to church every Sunday morning. I say, I have only a 
six-days’ license. He says, ‘ Get a seven-days’ license, and 
I’ll make it worth your while;’ and you know, Polly, they 
are very good customers to us. Mrs. Briggs often goes out 
shopping for hours, or making calls, and then she pays 
down fair and honorable like a lady; there’s no beating 
down, or making three hours into two hours and a half, 
as some folks do; and it is easy work for the horses ; not 
like tearing along to catch trains for people that are al- 
ways a quarter of an hour too late; and if I don’t oblige 
her in this matter it is very likely we shall lose them alto- 
gether. What do you say, little woman ?” 

“ I say, Jerry,” says she, speaking very slowly, “ I say, 
if Mrs. Briggs would give you a sovereign every Sunday 
morning I would not have you a seven-days’ cabman 
again. We have known what it was to have no Sundays, 
and now we know what it is to call them our own. Thank 
God, you earn enough to keep us, though it is sometimes 
close work to pay for all the oats and hay, the license, 
and the rent besides; but Harry will soon be earning 


150 


BLACK BEAUTY 1 


something, and I would rather struggle on harder than we 
do than go back to those horrid times when you hardly 
had a minute to look at your own children, and we never 
could go to a place of worship together, or have a quiet, 
happy day. God forbid that we should ever turn back 
to those times; that’s what I say, Jerry.” 

“ And that is what I told Mr. Briggs, my dear,” said 
Jerry, “ and what I mean to stick to ; so don’t go and fret 
yourself, Polly (for she had begun to cry) ; I would not go 
back to the old times if I earned twice as much ; so that is 
settled, little woman; cheer up. Now, I’ll be off to the 
stand.” 

Three weeks had passed away after this conversation, 
and no order had come from Mrs. Briggs, so there was 
nothing but taking jobs from the stand. Jerry took it to 
heart a good deal, for, of course, the work was harder for 
horse and man ; but Polly would always cheer him up and 
say, “ Never mind, father, never mind. 

“Do your best, 

And leave the rest; 

’Twill all come right 
Some day or night.” 

It soon became known that Jerry had lost his best cus- 
tomer, and for what reason ; most of the men said he was 
a fool, but two or three took his part. 

“ If workingmen don’t stick to their Sunday,” said Tru- 
man, “ they’ll soon have none left ; it is every man's right 
and every beast's right. By God's law we have a day of rest , and 
by the law of England we have a day of rest ; and I say we ought 
to hold to the rights these laws give us , and keep them for our 
children." 

“ All very well for you religious chaps to talk so,” said 
Larry, “ but I’ll turn a shilling when I can. I don’t be- 
lieve in religion, for I don’t see that your religious people 
are any better than the rest.” 


THE SUNDAY CAB. 


151 


“If they are not better,” put in Jerry, “it is because 
they are not religious. You might as well say that our 
country’s laws are not good because some people break 
them. If a man gives way to his temper, and speaks evil 
of his neighbor, and does not pay his debts, he is not re- 
ligious, I don’t care how much he goes to church. If 
some men are shams and humbugs, that does not make 
religion untrue. Real religion is the best and the truest 
thing in the world, and the only thing that can make a 
man really happy, or make the world any better.” 

“ If religion was good for anything,” said Jones, “ it 
would prevent your religious people from making us work 
on Sundays, as you know many of them do, and that’s 
why I say religion is nothing but a sham ; why, if it was 
not for the church and chapel-goers it would be hardly 
worth while our coming out on a Sunday ; but they have 
their privileges, as they call them, and I go without. I 
shall expect them to answer for my soul, if I can’t get a 
chance of saving it.” 

Several of the men applauded this, till Jerry said, — 

“ That may sound well enough, but it won’t do ; every 
man must look after his own soul ; you can’t lay it down 
at another man’s door like a foundling, and expect him to 
take care of it; and, don’t you see, if you are always sit- 
ting on your box waiting for a fare, they will say, ‘ If we 
don’t take him some one else will, and he does not look 
for any Sunday.’ Of course they don’t go to the bottom 
of it, or they would see if they never came for a cab it 
would be no use your standing there; but people don’t 
always like to go to the bottom of things ; it may not be 
convenient to do it; but if you Sunday drivers would all 
strike for a day of rest, the thing would be done.” 

“And what would all the good people do if they could 
not get to their favorite preachers?” said Larry. 

“’Tis not for me to lay down plans for other people,” 
said Jerry, “ but if they can’t walk so far, they can go to 


152 


BLACK BEAXJTY. 


what is nearer ; and if it should rain they can put on 
their mackintoshes, as they do on a week-day. If a thing 
is right, it can be done, and if it is wrong, it can be done 
without; and a good man will find a way; and that is as 
true for us cabmen as it is for the churchgoers.” 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE GOLDEN RULE. 

Two or three weeks after this, as we came into the yard 
rather late in the evening, Polly came running across the 
road with the lantern (she always brought it to him if it 
was not very wet). 

“It has all come right, Jerry; Mrs. Briggs sent her 
servant this afternoon to ask you to take her out to-mor- 
row at eleven o’clock. I said, ‘Yes, I thought so, but we 
supposed she employed some one else now.’ ” 

“ ‘ Well,’ he said, ‘ the real fact is, master was put out 
because Mr. Barker refused to come on Sundays, and he 
has been trying other cabs, but there’s something wrong 
with them all ; some drive too fast, and some too slow, and 
the mistress says there is not one of them so nice and 
clean as yours, and nothing will suit her but Mr. Barker’s 
cab again.’ ” 

Polly was almost out of breath, and Jerry broke out into 
a merry laugh. 

“ £ ’ Twill all come right some day or night ;’ you were 
right, my dear; you generally are. Run in and get the 
supper, and I’ll have Jack’s harness off and make him 
snug and happy in ho time.” 

After this, Mrs. Briggs wanted Jerry’s cab quite as often 
as before, never, however, on a Sunday; but there came a 


THE GOLDEN RULE. 


153 


day when we had Sunday work, and this was how it hap- 
pened. We had all come home on the Saturday night 
very tired, and very glad to think that the next day would 
be all rest, but so it was not to be. 

On Sunday morning Jerry was cleaning me in the yard, 
when Polly stepped up to him, looking very full of some- 
thing. 

“ What is it?” said Jerry. 

“Well, my dear,” she said, “poor Dinah Brown has 
just had a letter brought to say that her mother is dan- 
gerously ill, and that she must go directly if she wishes 
to see her alive. The place is more than ten miles away 
from here, out in the country, and she says if she takes 
the train she should still have four miles to walk ; and so 
weak as she is, and the baby only four weeks old, of course 
that would be impossible ; and she wants to know if you 
would take her in your cab, and she promises to pay you 
faithfully, as she can get the money.” 

“ Tut, tut! we’ll see about that. It was not the money 
I was thinking about, but of losing our Sunday ; the horses 
are tired, and I am tired too— that’s where it pinches.” 

“ It pinches all round, for that matter,” said Polly, “ for 
it’s only half Sunday without you, but you know we should 
do to other people as we should like they should do to us; 
and I know very well what I should like if my mother 
was dying ; and Jerry, dear, I am sure it won’t break the 
Sabbath ; for if pulling a poor beast or donkey out of a pit 
would not spoil it, I am quite sure taking poor Dinah 
would not do it.” 

“Why, Polly, you are as good as the minister, and so, 
as I’ve had my Sunday-morning sermon early to-day, you 
may go and tell Dinah that I’ll be ready for her as the 
clock strikes ten; but stop — just step round to butcher 
Bray don’s with my compliments, and ask him if he would 
lend me his light trap ; I know he never uses it on the 
Sunday, and it would make a wonderful difference to the horse” 


154 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


Away she went, and soon returned, saying that he could 
have the trap and welcome. 

“All right,” said he; “now put me up a bit of bread 
and cheese, and I’ll be back in the afternoon as soon as I 
can.” 

“And I’ll have the meat-pie ready for an early tea in- 
stead of for dinner,” said Polly ; and away she went, whilst 
he made his preparations to the tune of “ Polly’s the woman 
and no mistake,” of which tune he was very fond. 

I was selected for the journey, and at ten o’clock we 
started, in a light, high-wheeled gig, which ran so easily 
that after the four-wheeled cab it seemed like nothing. 

It was a fine May day, and as soon as we were out of 
the town, the sweet air, the smell of the fresh grass and 
the soft country roads were as pleasant as they used to be 
in the old times, and I soon began to feel quite fresh. 

Dinah’s family lived in a small farm-house, up a green 
lane, close by a meadow with some fine shady trees ; there 
were two cows feeding in it. A young man asked Jerry to 
bring his trap into the meadow, and he would tie me up 
in the cowshed ; he wished he had a better stable to offer. 

“ If your cows would not be offended,” said Jerry, 
“ there is nothing my horse would like so well as to have 
an hour or two in your beautiful meadow ; he’s quiet, and 
it would be a rare treat for him.” 

“ Do, and welcome,” said the young man ; “ the best we 
have is at your service for your kindness to my sister ; we 
shall be having some dinner in an hour, and I hope you’ll 
come in, though with mother so ill we are all out of sorts 
in the house.” 

Jerry thanked him kindly but said, as he had some din- 
ner with him, there was nothing he should like so well as 
walking about in the meadow. 

When my harness was taken off I did not know what I 
should do first — whether to eat the grass, or roll over on 
my back, or lie down and rest, or have a gallop across the 


DOLLY AND A REAL GENTLEMAN. 


155 


meadow out of sheer spirits at being free; and I did all 
by turns. Jerry seemed to be quite as happy as I was ; 
he sat down by a bank under a shady tree, and listened 
to the birds, then he sang himself, and read out of the lit- 
tle brown book he is so fond of, then wandered round the 
meadow and down by a little brook, where he picked the 
flowers and the hawthorn, and tied them up with long 
sprays of ivy ; then he gave me a good feed of the oats 
which he had brought with him ; but the time seemed all 
too short — I had not been in a field since I left poor Gin- 
ger at Earlsball. 

We came home gently, and Jerry’s first words were, as 
we came into the yard, “ Well, Polly, I have not lost my 
Sunday after all, for the birds were singing hymns in every 
bush, and I joined in the service; and as for Jack, he was 
like a young colt.” 

When he handed Dolly the flowers, she jumped about 
for joy. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

DOLLY AND A REAL GENTLEMAN. 

The winter came in early, with a great deal of cold and 
wet. There was snow, or sleet, or rain, almost every day 
for weeks, changing only for keen driving winds or sharp 
frosts. The horses all felt it very much. When it is a 
dry cold, a couple of good thick rugs will keep the 
warmth in us ; but when it is soaking rain, they soon get 
wet through and are no good. Some of the drivers had a 
waterproof cover to throw over, which was a fine thing ; 
but some of the men were so poor that they could not pro- 
tect either themselves or their horses, and many of them 


156 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


suffered very much that winter. When we horses had 
worked half the day we went to our dry stables and could 
rest; whilst they had to sit on their boxes, sometimes 
staying out as late as one or two o’clock in the morning, 
if they had a party to wait for. 

When the streets were slippery with frost or snow, that 
was the worst of all for us horses ; one mile of such trav- 
elling with a weight to draw, and no firm footing, would 
take more out of us than four on a good road ; every nerve 
and muscle of our bodies is on the strain to keep our bal- 
ance; and, added to this, the fear of falling is more ex- 
hausing than anything else. If the roads are very bad 
indeed, our shoes are roughed ; but that makes us feel ner- 
vous at first. 

When the weather was very bad, many of the men 
would go and sit in the tavern close by and get some one 
to watch for them ; but they often lost a fare in that way, 
and could not, as Jerry said, be there without spending 
money. He never went to the Rising Sun; there was a 
coffee-shop near, where he now and then went, or he 
bought of an old man, who came to our rank with tins 
of hot coffee and pies. It was his opinion that spirits and 
beer made a man colder afterwards, and that dry clothes, 
good food, cheerfulness, and a comfortable wife at home, 
were the best things to keep a cabman warm. Polly always 
supplied him with something to eat when he could not get 
home, and sometimes he would see little Dolly peeping 
from the corner of the street, to make sure if “ father ” was 
on the stand. If she saw him, she would run off at full 
speed and soon come back with something in a tin or 
basket, some hot soup or pudding that Polly had ready. 
It was wonderful how such a little thing could get safely 
across the street, often thronged with horses and car- 
riages ; but she was a brave little maid, and felt it quite an 
honor to bring “ father’s first course,” as he used to call it. 
She was a general favorite on the stand, and there was not 


DOLLY AND A REAL GENTLEMAN. 


157 


a man who would not have seen her safely across the 
street if Jerry had not been able to do it. 

One cold, windy day, Dolly had brought Jerry a basin 
of something hot, and was standing by him whilst he ate 
it. He had scarcely begun, when a gentleman, walking 
toward us very fast, held up his umbrella. Jerry touched 
his hat in return, gave the basin to Dolly, and was taking 
off my cloth, when the gentleman, hastening up, cried out, 
lt No , no , finish your soup my friend; I have not much time 
to spare, but I can wait till you have done, and set your 
little girl safe on the pavement.” So saying, he seated 
himself in the cab. Jerry thanked him kindly and came 
back to Dolly. 

“ There , Dolly , that's a gentleman ; that’s a real gentle- 
man, Dolly; he has got time and thought for the comfort 
of a poor cabman and a little girl.” 

Jerry finished his soup, set the child across, and then 
took his orders to drive to Clapham Rise. Several times 
after that the same gentleman took our cab. I think he 
was very fond of dogs and horses, for whenever we took 
him to his own door, two or three dogs would come 
bounding out to meet him. Sometimes he came round 
and patted me, saying in his quiet, pleasant way : “ This 
horse has got a good master, and he deserves it.” It was a 
very rare thing for any one to notice the horse that had 
been working for him. I have known ladies do it now 
and then, and this gentleman and one or two others have 
given me a pat and a kind word ; but ninety-nine out of a 
hundred would as soon think of patting the steam engine that drew 
the train. 

This gentleman was not young, and there was a for- 
ward stoop in his shoulders as if he was always going at 
something. His lips were thin and close shut, though 
they had a very pleasant smile; his eye was keen, and 
there was something in his jaw, and the motion of his head, 
that made one think he was very determined in anything 


158 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


he set about. His voice was pleasant and kind ; any horse 
would trust that voice, though it was just as decided as 
everything else about him. 

One day he and another gentleman took our cab ; they 

stopped at a shop in R Street, and whilst his friend 

went in he stood at the door. A little ahead of us, on the 
other side of the street, a cart with two very fine horses 
was standing before some wine vaults ; the carter was not 
with them, and I cannot tell how long they had been 
standing before they seemed to think they had waited 
long enough and began to move off. Before they had 
gone many paces the carter came running out and caught 
them. He seemed furious at their having moved, and 
with whip and rein punished them brutally, even beating 
them about the head. Our gentleman saw it all, and 
stepping quickly across the street, said, in a decided voice: 

“If you don’t stop that directly I’ll have you arrested 
for leaving your horses, and for brutal conduct.” 

The man, who had clearly been drinking, poured forth 
some abusive language, but he left off knocking the horses 
about, and taking the reins, got into his cart; meantime 
our friend had quietly taken a notebook from his pocket, 
and looking at the name and address painted on the cart, 
he wrote something down. 

“ What do you want with that?” growled the carter, as 
he cracked his whip and was moving on. A nod and a 
grim smile was the only answer he got. 

On returning to the cab, our friend was joined by his 
companion, who said, laughingly, “ I should have thought, 
Wright, you had enough business of your own to look 
after, without troubling yourself about other people’s 
horses and servants.” 

Our friend stood still for a moment, and throwing his 
head a little back, said, “ Do you know why this world is 
as bad as it is ?” 

“ No,” said the other. 


SEEDY SAM. 


159 


“ Then I’ll tell you. It is became people think only about 
their own business , and won't trouble themselves to stand up for 
the oppressed , nor bring the wrong-doer to light. I never see 
a wicked thing like this without doing what I can, and 
many a master has thanked me for letting him know how 
his horses have been used.” 

“ I wish there were more gentlemen like you, sir,” said 
Jerry,” “for they are wanted badly enough in this city.” 

After this we continued our journey, and as they got out 
of the cab our friend was saying, “ My doctrine is this, that 
if we see cruelty or wrong that we have the power to stop, and 
do nothing , we make ourselves sharers in the guilt." 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

SEEDY SAM. 

I should say that for a cab horse I was very well off in- 
deed ; my driver was my owner, and it was his interest to 
treat me well, and not overwork me, even had he not been 
so good a man as he was; but there were a great many 
horses which belonged to the large cab-owners, who let 
them out to their drivers for so much money a day. As 
the horses did not belong to these men, the only thing 
they thought of was how to get their money out of them, 
first, to pay the master, and then to provide for their own 
living, and a dreadful time some of these horses had of it. 
Of course I understood but little, but it was often talked 
over on the stand, and the Governor, who was a kind- 
hearted man, and fond of horses, would sometimes speak 
up if one came in very much jaded or ill-used. 

One day a shabby, miserable-looking driver, who went 
by the name of “Seedy Sam,” brought in his horse look- 
ing dreadfully beat, and the Governor said, — 


160 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


“ You and your horse look more fit for the police-station 
than for this rank.” 

The man flung his tattered rug over the horse, turned 
full round upon the Governor, and said in a voice that 
sounded almost desperate, — 

“ If the police have any business with the matter, it 
ought to be with the masters who charge us so much, or 
with the fares that are fixed so low. If a man has to pay 
eighteen shillings a day for the use of a cab and two horses, 
as many of us have to do in the season, and must make up 
that before we earn a penny for ourselves— I say ’tis more 
than hard work; nine shillings a day to get out of each 
horse, before you begin to get your own living ; you know 
that’s true, and if the horses don’t work we must starve, 
and I and my children have known what that is before 
now. I’ve six of ’em, and only one earns anything; I 
am on the stand fourteen or sixteen hours a day, and I 
haven’t had a Sunday these ten or twelve weeks. You 
know Skinner never gives a day if he can help it; and if I 
don’t work hardsell me who does ? I want a warm coat 
and a mackintosh, but with so many to feed how can a man 
get it ? I had to pledge my clock a week ago to pay Skin- 
ner, and I shall never see it again.” 

Some of the other drivers stood round nodding their 
heads, and saying he was right. The man went on, — 

“ You that have your own horses and cabs, or drive for 
good masters, have a chance of getting on and a chance of 
doing right; I haven’t. We can’t charge more than six- 
pence a mile after the first, within the four-mile radius. 
This very morning I had to go a clear six miles and only 
took three shillings. I could not get a return fare, and 
had to come all the way back ; there’s twelve miles for the 
horse and three shillings for me. After that I had a three- 
mile fare, and there were bags and boxes enough to have 
brought in a good many two-pences if they had been put 
outside; but you know how people do; ail that could be 



A Horse Down !” 






SEEDY SAM. 


161 


piled up inside on the front seat were put in, and three 
heavy boxes went on the top ; that was sixpence ; and the 
fare one and sixpence; then I got a return for a shilling; 
now that makes eighteen miles for the horse and six shil- 
lings for me; there’s three shillings still for that horse to 
earn, and nine shillings for the afternoon horse before I 
touch a penny. Of course it is not always as bad as that, 
but you know it often is, and I say ’tis a mockery to tell 
a man that he must not overwork his horse, for when a 
beast is downright tired there’s nothing but the whip that 
will keep his legs a-going; you can’t help yourself— you 
must put your wife and children before the horse; the 
master must look to that, we can’t. I don’t ill-use my 
horse for the sake of it ; none of you can say I do. There’s 
wrong lays somewhere — never a day’s rest, never a quiet 
hour with the wife and children. I often feel like an old 
man, though I’m only forty-five. You know how quick 
some of the gentry are to suspect us of cheating and over- 
charging; why, they stand with their purses in their hands 
counting it over to a penny, and looking at us as if we 
were pickpockets. I wish some of ’em had got to sit on my 
box sixteen hours a day and get a living out of it and 
eighteen shillings beside, and that in all weathers; they 
would not be so uncommon particular never to give us a 
sixpence over, or to cram all the luggage inside. Of course 
some of ’em tip us pretty handsome now and then, or else 
w r e could not live, but you can’t depend upon that.” 

The men who stood round much approved this speech, 
and one of them said, “It is desperate hard, and if a man 
sometimes does what is wrong it is no wonder, and if he 
gets a dram too much, who’s to blow him up?” 

Jerry had taken no part in this conversation, but I never 
saw his face look so sad before. The Governor had stood 
with both his hands in his pockets ; now he took his hand- 
kerchief out of his hat and wiped his forehead. 

“ You’ve beaten me, Sam,” he said, “ for it’s all true, and 
11 


162 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


I won’t cast it up to you any more about the police ; it 
was the look in that horse’s eye that came over me. It is 
hard lines for man, and it is hard lines for beast , and who’s to 
mend it I don’t know; but any way you might tell the 
poor beast that you were sorry to take it out of him in that 
way. Sometimes a kind word is all we can give ’em, 'poor 
brutes , and His wonderful what they do understand .” 

A few mornings after this talk a new man came on the 
stand with Sam’s cab. 

“ Halloo!” said one, “ what’s up with Seedy Sam?” 

“ He’s ill in bed,” said the man ; “ he was taken last night 
in the yard, and could scarcely crawl home. His wife 
sent a boy this morning to say his father was in a high 
fever and could not get out; so I’m here instead.” 

The next morning the same man came again. 

“ How is Sam ?” inquired the Governor. 

“ He’s gone,” said the man. 

“ What! gone?” You don’t mean to say he’s dead?” 

“Just snuffed out,” said the other; “he died at four 
o’clock this morning; all yesterday he was raving — raving 
about Skinner, and having no Sundays, 1 I never had a 
Sunday’s rest’ were his last words.” 

No one spoke for awhile, and then the Governor said, 
“ I tell you what, mates, this is a warning for us.” 


CHAPTER XL. 

POOR GINGER. 

One day, whilst our cab and many others were waiting 
outside one of the parks where music was playing, a 
shabby old cab drove up beside ours. The horse was an 
old, worn-out chestnut, with an ill-kept coat, and bones that 


POOR GINGER. 


163 



showed plainly through it; the knees knuckled over, and 
the fore-legs were very unsteady. I had been eating some 
hay, and the wind rolled a little of it that way, and the 
poor creature put out her long, thin neck and picked it 
up, and then turned round and looked about for more . 
There was a hopeless look in the dull eye that I could not 


“The Head Hung out of the Cart Tail.” 

help noticing, and then, as I was thinking where I had 
seen that horse before, she looked full at me and said, 
“ Black Beauty, is that you ?” 

It was Ginger! but how changed! The beautifully 
arched and glossy neck was now straight and lank and 
fallen in; the clean, straight legs and delicate fetlocks 
were swelled ; the joints were grown out of shape with 
hard work ; the face, that was once so full of spirit and 



164 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


life was now full of suffering, and I could tell by the 
heaving of her sides, and her frequent cough, how bad 
her breath was. 

Our drivers were standing together a little way off, so I 
sidled up to her a step or two, that we might have a little 
quiet talk. It was a sad tale that she had to tell. 

After a twelve-month’s run off at Earlshall she was con- 
sidered to be fit for work again, and was sold to a gentle- 
man. For a little while she got on very well, but after a 
longer gallop than usual the old strain returned, and after 
being rested and doctored she was again sold. In this way 
she changed hands several times, but always getting lower 
down. 

“ And so at last,” said she, “ I was bought by a man who 
keeps a number of cabs and horses, and lets them out. 
You look well off, and I am glad of it, but I could not tell 
you what my life has been. When they found out my 
weakness, they said I was not worth what they gave for me, 
and that I must go into one of the low cabs , and just be used up ; 
that is what they are doing, whipping and working with 
never one thought of what I suffer — they paid for me and 
must get it out of me, they say. The man who hires me 
now pays a deal of money to the owner every day, and so 
he has to get it out of me, too; and so it’s all the week 
round and round, with never a Sunday rest.” 

I said, “You used to stand up for yourself if you were 
ill-used.” 

“Ah!” she said, “ I did once, but it’s no use; men are 
strongest, and if they are cruel and have no feeling, there 
is nothing that we can do but just bear it — bear it on and 
on to the end. I wish the end was come; I wish I was 
dead. I have seen dead horses, and I am sure they do 
not suffer pain. I wish I may drop down dead at my 
work, and not be sent off to the knacker’s.” 

I was very much troubled, and I put my nose up to hers, 
but I could say nothing to comfort her. I think she was 



“I was Driven Away by the Force of their Charge.” 






































































• 




























THE BUTCHER. 


165 


pleased to see me, for she said, “You are the only friend I 
ever had.” 

Just then her driver came up, and with a tug at her 
mouth backed her out of the line and drove off*, leaving 
me very sad indeed. 

A short time after this, a cart with a dead horse in it 
passed our cab-stand. The head hung out of the cart tail, 
the lifeless tongue was slowly dropping with blood, and 
the sunken eyes ! but I can’t speak of them ; the sight was 
too dreadful. It was a chestnut horse with a long, thin 
neck. I saw a white streak down the forehead. I believe 
it was Ginger ; I hoped it was, for then her troubles would 
be over. Oh ! if men were more merciful y they icould shoot us 
before we came to such misery. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

THE BUTCHER. 

I saw a great deal of trouble amongst the horses in Lon- 
don, and much of it that might have been prevented by a 
little common sense. We horses do not mind hard work 
if we are treated reasonably, and I am sure there are many 
driven by quite poor men who have a happier life than I 
had when I used to go in the Countess of W ’s car- 

riage, with my silver-mounted harness and high feeding. 

It often went to my heart to see how the little ponies 
were used, straining along with heavy loads, or staggering 
under heavy blows from some low, cruel boy. Once I saw 
a little gray pony with a thick mane and a pretty head, 
and so much like Merrylegs that if I had not been in har- 
ness I should have neighed to him. He was doing his 
best to pull a heavy cart, while a strong, rough boy was 


166 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


cutting him under the belly with his whip, and chucking 
cruelly at his little mouth. Could it be Merry legs? It 
was just like him; but then Mr. Blomefield was never to 
sell him, and I think he would not do it; but this might 
have been quite as good a little fellow and had as happy 
a place when he was young. 

I often noticed the great speed at which butchers’ horses 
were made to go, though I did not know why it was so till 
one day when we had to wait some time in St. John’s 
Wood. There was a butcher’s shop next door, and as we 
were standing a butcher’s cart came dashing up at a great 
pace. The horse was hot, and much exhausted ; he hung 
his head down, while his heaving sides and trembling legs 
showed how hard he had been driven. The lad jumped 
out of the cart and was getting the basket, when the mas- 
ter came out of the shop much displeased. After looking 
at the horse he turned angrily to the lad. 

“ How many times shall I tell you not to drive in this 
way? You ruined the last horse and broke his wind, and 
you are going to ruin this in the same way. If you were 
not my own son I would dismiss you on the spot; it is a 
disgrace to have a horse brought to the shop in a condition 
like that; you are liable to be taken up by the police for 
such driving, and if you are, you need not look to me for 
bail, for I have spoken to you till I am tired : you must 
look out for yourself.” 

During this speech the boy had stood by, sullen and 
dogged, but when his father ceased he broke out angrily. 
It wasn’t his fault, and he wouldn’t take the blame ; he was 
onty going by orders all the time. 

“You always say, ‘Now be quick; now look sharp!’ 
and when I go to the houses, one wants a leg of mutton 
for an early dinner, and I must be back with it in a quar- 
ter of an hour. Another cook has forgotten to order the 
beef; I must go and fetch it and be back in no time, or 
the mistress will scold; and the housekeeper says they 


THE BUTCHER. 


167 


have company coming unexpectedly, and must have some 
chops sent up directly ; and the lady at No. 4, in the Cres- 
cent, never orders her dinner till the meat comes in for 
lunch ; and it’s nothing but hurry, hurry, all the time. If 
the gentry would think of ivhat they want, and order their meat 
the day before, there need not be this blow up!” 

“ I wish to goodness they would,” said the butcher; 
“ ’twould save me a wonderful deal of harass, and I could 

suit my customers much better if I knew beforehand 

But, there ! what’s the use of talking — who ever thinks of a 
butcher’s convenience, or a butcher’s horse? Now, then, 
take him in and look to him well; mind he does not go 
out again to-day, and if anything else is wanted you must 
carry it yourself in the basket.” With that he went in, 
and the horse was led away. 

But all boys are not cruel. I have seen some as fond 
of their pony or donkey as if it had been a favorite dog, 
and the little creatures have worked away as cheerfully 
and willingly for their young drivers as I work for Jerry. 
It may be hard work sometimes, but a friend’s hand and 
voice make it easy. 

There was a young coster-boy who came up our street 
with greens and potatoes ; he had an old pony not very 
handsome, but the cheerfullest and pluckiest little thing I 
ever saw, and to see how fond those two were of each 
other was a treat. The pony followed his master like a 
dog, and when he got into his cart would trot off without 
a whip or a word, and rattle down the street as merrily as 
if he had come out of the Queen’s stables. Jerry liked 
the boy, and called him “ Prince Charlie,” for he said he 
would make a king of drivers some day. 

There was an old man, too, who used to come up our 
street with a little coal cart; he wore a coalheaver’s hat, 
and looked rough and black. He and his old horse used 
to plod together along the street like two good partners 
who understood each other ; the horse would stop of his 


168 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


own accord at the doors where they took coal of him ; he 
used to keep one ear bent toward his master. The old 
man’s cry could be heard up the street long before he came 
near. I never knew what he said, but the children called 
him “ Old Ba-a-ar Hoo,” for it sounded like that. Polly 
took her coal of him, and was very friendly, and Jerry 
said it was a comfort to think how happy an old horse 
might be in a poor place. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

THE ELECTION. 

As we came into the yard one afternoon, Polly came out. 

“ Jerry ! I’ve had Mr. B here asking about your vote, 

and he wants to hire your cab for the election ; he will call 
for an answer.” 

“ Well, Polly, you may say that my cab will be other- 
wise engaged. I should not like to have it pasted over 
with their great bills ; and as to making Jack and Captain 
race about to the public-houses to bring up half-drunken 
voters, w r hy I think ’twould be an insult to the horses. 
No, I shan’t do it.” 

“ I suppose you’ll vote for the gentleman ? He said he 
was of your politics.” 

“ So he is in some things, but I shall not vote for him, 
Polly ; you know what his trade is ?” 

“ Yes!” 

“ Well, a man who gets rich by that trade may be all 
very well in some ways, but he is blind as to what work- 
ing-men want; I could not in my conscience send him up 
to make the laws. I dare say they’ll be angry, but every 
man must do what he thinks to be the best for his country.” 


THE ELECTION. 


169 


On the morning before the election, Jerry was putting 
me into the shafts, when Dolly came into the yard sob- 
bing and crying, with her little blue frock and white pina- 
fore spattered all over with mud. 

‘ £ Why, Dolly, what is the matter?” 

“ Those naughty boys,” she sobbed, “have thrown the 
dirt all over me, and called me a little raga— raga ” 



“The Election.” 


“ They called her a little 1 blue ’ ragamuffin, father,” said 
Harry, who ran in looking very angry ; u but I have given 
it to them ; they 'won’t insult my sister again. I have 
given them a thrashing they will remember; a set of 
cowardly, rascally 4 orange ’ blackguards !” 

Jerry kissed the child and said, “ Run in to mother, my 
pet, and tell her I think you had better stay at home to- 
day and help her.” 

Then turning gravely to Harry — 

“ My boy, I hope you will always defend your sister, 
and give anybody who insults her a good thrashing — 
that is as it should be ; but mind, I won’t have any elec- 
tion blackguarding on my premises. There are as many 


170 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


1 blue ’ blackguards as there are ‘ orange ,’ and as many white 
as there are purple, or any other color, and I won’t have 
any of my family mixed up with it. Even women and 
children are ready to quarrel for the sake of a color, and 
notone in ten of them knows what it is about.” 

“ Why, father, I thought blue was for Liberty.” 

u My boy, Liberty does not come from colors, they 
only show party ; and all the liberty you can get out of 
them is liberty to get drunk at other people’s expense, 
liberty to ride to the poll in a dirty old cab, liberty to 
abuse any one that does not wear your color, and to shout 
yourself hoarse at what you only half understand — that’s 
your liberty !” 

“ Oh, father, you are laughing.” 

“ No, Harry, I am serious, and I am ashamed to see 
how men go on that ought to know better. An election is 
a very serious thing ; at least it ought to be, and every 
man ought to vote according to his conscience, and let his 
neighbor do the same.” 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

A FRIEND IN NEED. 

At last came the election day ; there was no lack of 
work for Jerry and me. First came a stout, puffy gentle- 
man with a carpet-bag ; he wanted to go to the Bishopsgate 
Station; then we were called by a party who wished to 
be taken to the Regent’s Park ; and next we were wanted 
in a side-street, where a timid, anxious old lady was wait- 
ing to be taken to the bank ; there we had to stop to take 
her back again, and just as we had set her down a red- 
faced gentleman with a handful of papers came running 


A FRIEND IN NEED. 


171 


up out of breath, and before Jerry could get down he 
had opened the door, popped himself in, and called out 
“ Bow Street Police Station, quick!” so off we went with 
him, and when after another turn or tw T o we came back, 
there was no other cab on the stand. Jerry put on my 
nose-bag for, as he said, “We must eat when we can on 
such days as these; so munch away, Jack, and make the 
best of your time, old boy.” 

I found I had a good feed of crushed oats wetted up 
with a little bran ; this would be a treat any day, but very 
refreshing then. Jerry was so thoughtful and kind — 
what horse would not do his best for such a master? Then 
he took out one of Polly’s meat pies, and standing near 
me he began to eat it. The streets were very full, and the 
cabs, with the candidates’ colors on them, were dashing 
about through the crowd as if life and limb were of no 
consequence; we saw two people knocked down that day, 
and one was a woman. The horses were having a bad 
time of it, poor things! but the voters inside thought 
nothing of that ; many of them were half drunk, hurrah- 
ing out of the cab windows if their own party came by. 
It was the first election I had seen, and I don’t want to 
be in another, though I have heard things were better now. 

Jerry and I had not eaten many mouthfuls, before a poor 
young woman, carrying a heavy child, came along the 
street. She was looking this way and that way, and 
seemed quite bewildered. Presently she made her way 
up to Jerry and asked if he could tell her the way to St. 
Thomas’s Hospital, and how far it was to get there. She 
had come from the country that morning, she said, in a 
market cart; she did not know about the election, and 
was quite a stranger in London. She had got an order for 
the hospital for her little boy. The child was crying 
with a feeble, pining cry. 

“ Poor little fellow ! she said, “ he suffers a deal of pain ; 
he is four years old, and can’t walk any more than a 


172 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


baby ; but the doctor said if I could get him into the 
hospital he might get well ; pray, sir, how far is it? and 
which way is it?” 

“ Why, missis,” said Jerry, “ you can’t get there walk- 
ing through crowds like this ! Why, it is three miles away, 
and that child is heavy.” 

“Yes, bless him, he is; but I am strong, thank God, 
and if I knew the way I think I should get on somehow ; 
please tell me the way.” 

“ You can’t do it,” said Jerry ; “ you might be knocked 
down and the child be run over. Now, look here, just 
get into this cab, and I’ll drive you safe to the hospital. 
Don’t you see the rain is coming on ?” 

“ No, sir, no ; I can’t do that, thank you ; I have only 
just money enough to get back with. Please tell me the 
way.” 

“ Look you here, missis, said Jerry, “ I’ve got a wife 
and dear children at home, and I know T a father’s feelings ; 
now, get you into that cab, and I’ll take you there for 
nothing. I’d be ashamed of myself to let a woman and a 
sick child run a risk like that.” 

“ Heaven bless you !” said the woman, and burst into 
tears. 

“ There, there, cheer up, my dear ; I’ll soon take you 
there ; come, let me put you inside.” 

“ As Jerry went to open the door, two men with colors 
in their hats and buttonholes ran up, calling out“ Cab !” 

“ Engaged,” cried Jerry ; but one of the men, pushing 
past the woman, sprang into the cab, followed by the other. 
Jerry looked as stern as a policeman. “ This cab is already 
engaged, gentlemen, by that lady.” 

“Lady!” said one of them. “Oh! she can wait; our 
business is very important; besides we were in first, it is 
our right, and we shall stay in.” 

A droll smile came over Jerry’s face as he shut the door 
upon them. “ All right, gentlemen, pray stay in as long 



“I was Led Back to the Stables.’' 



A FRIEND IN NEED. ' 


173 


as it. suits you; I can wait while you rest yourselves;” 
and turning his back upon them, he walked up to the 
young woman who was standing near me. “ They’ll soon 
he gone,” he said, laughing ; “ don’t trouble yourself, my 
dear.” 

And they soon were gone, for when they understood 
Jerry’s dodge they got out, calling him all sorts of bad 
names, and blustering about his number and getting a 
summons. After this little stoppage we were soon on our 
way to the hospital, going as much as possible through 
by-streets. Jerry rung the great bell, and helped the young 
woman out. 

“ Thank you a thousand times,” she said ; “ I could 
never have got there alpne.” 

“ You’re kindly welcome, and I hope the dear child will 
soon be better.” 

He watched her go in at the door, and gently he said to 
himself, “ Inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the least of 
these.” Then he patted my neck, which was always his 
way when anything pleased him. 

The rain was now coming down fast, and just as we 
were leaving the hospital the door opened again, and the 
porter called out, “ Cab !” We stopped, and a lady came 
down the steps. Jerry seemed to know her at once ; she 
put back her veil and said, “Barker! Jeremiah Barker! 
is it you ? I am very glad to find you here ; you are just 
the friend I want, for it is very difficult to get a cab in this 
part of London to-day.” 

“ I shall be proud to serve you, ma’am. I am right 
glad I happened to be here ; where may I take you to, 
ma’am ?” 

“ To the Paddington Station, and then if we are in good 
time, as I think we shall be, you shall tell me all about 
Mary and the children.” 

We got to the station in good time, and, being under 
shelter, the lady stood a good while talking to Jerry. I 


174 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


found she had been Polly’s mistress, and after many in- 
quiries about her, she said, — 

“How do you find the cab work suit you in winter? 
I know Mary was rather anxious about you last year.” 

“ Yes, ma’am, she was; I had a bad cough that followed 
me up quite into the warm weather, and when I am kept 
out late she does worry herself a good deal. You see, 
ma’am, it is all hours and all weathers, and that does try 
a man’s constitution : but I am getting on pretty well, and 
I should feel quite lost if I had not horses to look after. I 
was brought up to it, and I am afraid I should not do so 
well at anything else.” 

“ Well, Barker,” she said, “ it would be a great pity that 
you should seriously risk your health in this work, not 
only for your own but for Mary’s and the children's sake ; 
there are many places where good drivers or good grooms 
are wanted ; and if ever you think you ought to give up 
this cab work let me know.” 

Then sending some kind messages to Mary, she put 
something into his hand, saying, “ There is five shillings 
each for the two children ; Mary will know how to spend 
it.” 

Jerry thanked her and seemed much pleased, and turn- 
ing out of the station we at last reached home, and I, at 
least, was tired. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR. 

Captain and I were great friends. He was a noble old 
fellow and was very good company. I never thought he 
would have to leave his home and go down the hill, but 
his turn came; and this was how it happened. I was not 
there, but I heard all about it. 


OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR. 


175 


He and Jerry had taken a party to the great railway 
station over London Bridge, and were coming back, some- 
where between the Bridge and the Monument, when Jerry 
saw a brewer’s empty dray coming along, drawn by two 
powerful horses. The drayman was lashing his horses 
with his heavy whip; the dray was light, and they started 
off at a furious rate; the man had no control over them, 
and the street was full of traffic; one young girl was 
knocked down and run over, and the next moment they 
dashed up against our cab ; both the wheels were torn off 
and the cab was thrown over. Captain was dragged down, 
the shafts splintered and one of them ran into his side. 
Jerry, too, was thrown, but was only bruised; nobody 
coufd tell how he escaped ; he always said it was a miracle. 
When poor Captain was got up, he was found to be very 
much cut and knocked about. Jerry led him home 
gently, and a sad sight it was to see the blood soaking 
into his white coat, and dropping from his side and 
shoulder. The drayman was proved to be very drunk , and 
was fined, and the brewer had to pay damages to our 
master; but there was no one to pay damages to poor 
Captain. 

The farrier and Jerry did the best they could to ease 
his pain and make him comfortable. The fly had to be 
mended, and for several days I did not go out, and Jerry 
earned nothing. The first time we went to the stand after 
the accident the Governor came up to hear how Captain 
was. 

“ He’ll never get over it,” said Jerry, “at least not for 
my work ; so the farrier said this morning. He says he 
may do for carting and that sort of work. It has put me 
out very much. Carting, indeed! I’ve seen what horses 
come to at that work round London. I only wish that all 
the drunkards could be put in a lunatic asylum, instead 
of allowed to run foul of sober people. If they would 
break their own bones, and smash their own carts, and 


176 


BLACK BE A UTY. 


lame their own horses, that would be their own affair and 
we might let them alone ; but it seems to me that the in- 
nocent always suffer ; and then they can talk about com- 
pensation ! You can’t make compensation ; there’s all the 
trouble, and vexation, and loss of time, besides losing a 
good horse that’s like an old friend — it’s nonsense talking 
of compensation ! If there’s one devil that I should like to see in 
the bottomless pit more than another it's the drink devil.’’ 

“I say, Jerry,” said the Governor, “ you are treading 
pretty hard on my toes, you know ; I’m not so good as 
you are, more shame for me; I wish I was.” 

“ Well,” said Jerry, “ why don’t you cut with it, Gover- 
nor? You are too good a man to be the slave of such a 
thing.” 

“ I’m a great fool, Jerry, but I tried it once for two days, 
and I thought I should have died ; how did you do ?” 

“I had hard work at it for several weeks; you see I 
never did get drunk, but I found that I was not my own 
master, and that when the craving came on it was hard 
work to say ‘ no.’ I saw that one of us must knock under, 
the drink devil or Jerry Barker, and I said that it should 
not be Jerry Barker, God helping me ; but it was a struggle, 
and I wanted all the help I could get, for till I tried to 
break the habit I did not know how strong it was ; but 
then Polly took great pains that I should have good food, 
and when the craving came on I used to get a cup of coffee, 
or some peppermint, or read a bit in my book, and that 
was a help to me; sometimes I had to say over and over 
to myself, ‘ Give up the drink or lose your soul ! Give up 
the drink or break Polly’s heart!’ but thanks be to God 
and my dear wife, my chains were broken, and now for 
ten years I have not tasted a drop, and never wish for it.” 

“ I’ve a great mind to try it,” said Grant, “ for ’tis a 
poor thing not to be one’s master.” 

“ Do, Governor, you’ll never repent it ; and what a help 
it would be to some of the poor fellows in our rank if they 


OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR . 


177 


saw you do without it. I know there is two or three 
would like to keep out of the tavern if they could.” 

At first Captain seemed to do well, but he was a very 
old horse, and it was only his wonderful constitution and 
Jerry’s care that had kept him at the cab work so long; 
now he broke down very much. The farrier said he 
might mend up enough to sell for a few pounds, but Jerry 
said, no! a few pounds got by selling a good old servant 
into hard work and misery would canker all the rest of 
his money, and he thought the kindest thing he could do 
for the fine old fellow would be to put a sure bullet 
through his head, and then he would never suffer more, 
for he did not know where to find a kind master for the 
rest of his days. 

The day after this was decided, Harry took me to the 
forge for some new shoes ; when I returned, Captain was 
gone. I and the family all felt it very much. 

Jerry had now to look out for another horse, and he 
soon heard of one through an acquaintance who was un- 
der-groom in a nobleman’s stables. He was a valuable 
young horse, but he had run away, smashed into another 
carriage, flung his lordship out, and so cut and blemished 
himself that he was no longer fit for a gentleman’s stables, 
and the coachman had orders to look round and sell 
him as well as he could. 

“I can do with high spirits,” said Jerry, “ if a horse is 
not vicious or hard-mouthed.” 

“ There is not a bit of vice in him,” said the man ; “ his 
mouth is very tender, and I think myself that was the 
cause of the accident; you see he had just been clipped, 
and the weather was bad, and he had not had exercise 
enough, and when he did go out he was as full of spring 
as a balloon. Our governor (the coachman, I mean) had 
him harnessed in as tight and strong as he could, with 
the martingale, and the check-rein, a very sharp curb, and 
the reins put in at the bottom bar. It is my belief that it 

12 


178 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


made the horse mad, being tender in the mouth and so 
full of spirit/’ - 

“ Likely enough ; I’ll come and see him,” said Jerry. 

The next day, Hotspur, that was his name, came home; 
he was a fine brown horse, without a white hair in him, 
as tall as Captain, with a very handsome head, and only 
five years old. I gave him a friendly greeting by way of 
good fellowship, but did not ask him any questions. The 
first night he was very restless. Instead of lying down, 
he kept jerking his halter rope up and down through the 
ring, and knocking the block about against the manger 
till I could not sleep. However, the next day, after five 
or six hours in the cab, he came in quiet and sensible. 
Jerry patted and talked to him a good deal, and very soon 
they understood each other, and Jerry said that with an 
easy bit and plenty of work he would be as gentle as a 
lamb ; and that it was an ill wind that blew nobody good, 
for if his lordship had lost a hundred-guinea favorite, the 
cabman had gained a good horse with all his strength in 
him. 

Hotspur thought it a great come-down to be a cab horse 
and was disgusted at standing in the rank, but he con- 
fessed to me at the end of the week that an easy mouth and 
a free head made up for a great deal , and , after all , the work 
was not so degrading as having one’s head and tail fastened to 
each other at the saddle. In fact, he settled in well, and 
Jerry liked him very much. 


CHAPTER XLV. 
jerry’s new year. 

Christmas and the New Year are very merry times for 
some people; but for cabmen and cabmen’s horses it is no 


JERRY’S NEW YEAR. 


179 


holiday, though it may be a harvest. There are so many 
parties, balls, and places of amusement open, that the 
work is hard and often late. Sometimes driver and horse 
have to wait for hours in the rain or frost, shivering with 
cold, while the merry people within are dancing away to 
the music. I wonder if the beautiful ladies ever think of the 
weary cabman waiting on his box , and his patient beast stand- 
ing till his legs get stiff with cold. 

I had now most of the evening work, as I was well ac- 
customed to standing, and Jerry was also more afraid of 
Hotspur taking cold. We had a great deal of late work 
in the Christmas week, and Jerry’s cough was bad ; but, 
however late we were, Polly sat up for him, and came out 
with a lantern to meet him, looking anxious and troubled. 

On the evening of the New Year we had to take two 
gentlemen to a house in one of the West End squares. We 
set them down at nine o’clock, and were told to come 
again at eleven ; “ but,” said one of them, “ as it is a card 
party you may have to wait a few minutes, but don’t be 
late.” 

As the clock struck eleven we were at the door, for Jerry 
was always punctual. The clock chimed the quarter, one, 
two, three, and then struck twelve, but the door did not 
open. 

The wind had been very changeable, with squalls of 
rain during the day, but now it came on sharp, driving 
sleet, which seemed to come all the way round ; it was 
very cold, and there was no shelter. Jerry got off his box 
and came and pulled one of my cloths a little more over 
my neck; then he took a turn or two up and down, stamp- 
ing his feet; then he began to beat his arms, but that set 
him off coughing; so he opened the cab door and sat at 
the bottom with his feet on the pavement, and was a little 
sheltered. Still the clock chimed the quarters, and no one 
came. At half-past twelve he rang the bell and asked the 
servant if he would be wanted that night. 


180 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


“Oh, yes, you’ll be wanted safe enough,” said the man; 
“ you must not go, it will soon be over and again Jerry sat 
down, but his voice was so hoarse I could hardly hear him. 

At a quarter-past one the door opened and the two gen- 
tlemen came out; they got into the cab without a word 
and told Jerry where to drive; that was nearly two miles. 
My legs were numb with cold, and I thought I should 
have stumbled. When the men got out they never said 
they were sorry to have kept us waiting so long, but were 
angry at the charge ; however, as Jerry never charged more 
than was his due, so he never took less, and they had to 
pay for the two hours and a quarter waiting ; but it was 
hard-earned money to Jerry. 

At last he got home ; he could hardly speak, and his 
cough was dreadful. Polly asked no questions, but opened 
the door and held the lantern for him. 

“Can’t I do something?” she said. 

“Yes ; get Jack something warm, and then boil me some 
gruel.” 

This was said in a hoarse whisper; he could hardly get 
his breath ; but he gave me a rub down, as usual, and even 
went up into the hayloft for an extra bundle of straw for 
my bed. Polly brought me a warm mash that made me 
comfortable, and then they locked the door. 

It was late the next morning before any one came, and 
then it was only Harry. He cleaned us and fed us, and 
swept out the stalls ; then he put the straw back again as 
if it was Sunday. He was very still, and neither whistled 
nor sang. At noon he came again and gave us our food 
and water; this time Dolly came with him; she was cry- 
ing, and I could gather from what they said that Jerry was 
dangerously ill, and the doctor said it was a bad case. So 
two days passed, and there was great trouble indoors. We 
only saw Harry, and sometimes Dolly. I think she came 
for company, for Polly was always with Jerry, and he had 
to be kept very quiet. 


JERRY’S NEW YEAR. 


181 


On the third day, while Harry was in the stable, a tap 
came at the door, and Governor Grant came in. 

“ I wouldn’t go to the house my boy,” he said, “ but I 
want to know how your father is.” 

“ He is very bad,” said Harry ; “ he can’t be much worse; 
they call it ‘ bronchitis the doctor thinks it will turn one 
way or another to-night.” 

“That’s bad, very bad,” said Grant, shaking his head; 
“ I know two men who died of that last week ; it takes ’em 
off in no time ; but while there’s life there’s hope, so you 
must keep up your spirits.” 

“Yes,” said Harry, quickly, “and the doctor said that 
father had a better chance than most men, because he 
didn’t drink. He said yesterday the fever was so high, 
that if father had been a drinking man it would have 
burnt him up like a piece of paper; but I believe he 
thinks he will get over it; don’t you think he will, Mr. 
Grant ?” 

The Governor looked puzzled. 

“ If there’s any rule that good men should get over these 
things, I am sure he will, my boy ; he’s the best man I 
know. I’ll look in early to-morrow.” 

Early next morning he was there. 

“ Well ?” said he. 

“ Father is better,’’ said Harry. “ Mother hopes he will 
get over it.” 

“ Thank God !” said the Governor: “ and now you must 
keep him warm, and keep his mind easy, and that brings 
me to the horses. You see, Jack will be all the better for 
the rest of a week or two in a warm stable, and you can 
easily take him a turn up and down the street to stretch 
his legs; but this young one, if he does not get work, he 
will soon be all up on end, as you may say, and will be 
rather too much for you ; and wdien he does go out, there’ll 
be an accident.” 

“ It is like that now,” said Harry. “ I have kept him 


182 


BLACK BEAUTY . ! 


short of corn, but he’s so full of spirit I don’t know what 
to do with him.” 

“Just so,” said Grant. “ Now, look here, will you tell 
your mother that, if she is agreeable, I will come for him 
every day until something is arranged, and take him for 
a good spell of work, and whatever he earns, I’ll bring 
your mother half of it, and that will help with the horses’ 
feed. Your father is in a good club, I know, but that 
won’t keep the horses, and they’ll be eating their heads 
off all this time ; I’ll come at noon and hear what she says 
and without waiting for Harry’s thanks, he was gone. 

At noon I think he went and saw Polly, for he and 
Harry came to the stable together, harnessed Hotspur, and 
took him out. 

For a week or more he came for Hotspur, and when 
Harry thanked him or said anything about his kindness, 
he laughed it off, saying it was all good luck for him, for 
his horses were wanting a little rest which they would not 
otherwise have had. 

Jerry grew better steadily, but the doctor said that he 
must never go back to the cab work again if he wished to 
be an old man. The children had many consultations 
together about what father and mother would do, and how 
they could help to earn money. 

One afternoon Hotspur was brought in very wet and 
dirty. 

“ The streets are nothing but slush,” said the Governor; 
“ it will give you a good warming, my boy, to get him clean 
dry.” 

“ All right, Governor,” said Harry, “ I shall not leave him 
till he is ; you know I have been trained by my father.” 

“ I wish all the boys had been trained like you,” said 
the Governor. 

While Harry was sponging off the mud from Hotspur’s 
body and legs, Dolly came in, looking very full of some- 
thing. 


JERRY’S NEW YEAR. 


183 


“ Who lives at Fairstowe, Harry ? Mother has got a let- 
ter from Fairstowe ; she seemed so glad, and ran upstairs 
to father with it.” 

“ Don’t you know ? Why, it is the name of Mrs. Fow- 
ler’s place — mother’s old mistress, you know— the lady 
that father met last summer, who sent you and me five 
shillings each.” 

“ Oh ! Mrs. Fowler ; of course I know about her ; I won- 
der what she is writing to mother about.” 

“ Mother wrote to her last week,” said Harry ; “ you 
know she told father if ever he gave up the cab work she 
would like to know. I wonder what she says ; run in and 
see, Dolly.” 

Harry scrubbed away at Hotspur w T ith a huish ! huish ! 
like any old ostler. In a few minutes Dolly came dancing 
into the stable. 

“ Oh ! Harry, there never was anything so beautiful ; 
Mrs. Fowler says we are all to go and live near her. There 
is a cottage now empty that will just suit us, with a gar- 
den and a hen-house and apple-trees, and everything ! and 
her coachman is going away in the spring, and then she 
will want father in his place ; and there are good families 
round, where you can get a place in the garden, or the 
stable, or as a page boy ; and there’s a good school for 
me; and mother is laughing and crying by turns, and 
father does look so happy !” 

“That’s uncommon jolly,” said Harry, “and just the 
right thing, I should say ; it will suit father and mother 
both ; but I don’t intends be a page boy with tight clothes 
and rows of buttons. I’ll be a groom or a gardener.” 

It was quickly settled that as soon as Jerry was well 
enough, they should remove to the country, and that the 
cab and horses should be sold as soon as possible. 

This was heavy news for me, for I was not young now, 
and could not look for any improvement in my condition. 
Since I left Birtwick I had never been so happy as with 


184 


BLACK BE A UTY. 


my dear master Jerry; but three years of cab work, even 
under the best conditions, will tell on one’s strength, and 
I felt that I was not the horse that I had been. 

Grant said at once that he would take Hotspur; and 
there were men on the stand who would have bought me, 
but Jerry said I should not go to cab work again with just 
anybody, and the Governor promised to find a place for 
me where I should be comfortable. 

The day came for going away. Jerry had not been al- 
lowed to go out yet, and I never saw him after that New 
Year’s eve. Polly and the children came to bid me good-bye. 
“Poor old Jack! dear old Jack! I wish we could take 
you with us,” she said, and then laying her hand on my 
mane, she put her face close to my neck and kissed me. 
Dolly was crying and kissed me, too. Harry stroked me 
a great deal, but said nothing, only he seemed very sad, 
and so I was led away to my new place. 


PART IV. 


CHAPTER XLVI. 

JAKES AND THE LADY. 

I was sold to a corn dealer and baker whom Jerry knew, 
and with him he thought I should have good food and fair 
work. In the first he was quite right, and if my master 
had always been on the premises I do not think I should 
have been overloaded ; but there was a foreman who was 
always hurrying and driving every one, and frequently 
when I had quite a full load he would order something 
else to be taken on. My carter, whose name was Jakes, 
often said it was more than I ought to take, but the other 
always overruled him. “ ’Twas no use going twice when 
once would do, and he chose to get business forward.” 

Jakes, like the other carters, always had the check-rein up, 
which prevented me from drawing easily, and by the time 
I had been there three or four months I found the work 
telling very much on my strength. 

One day I was loaded more than usual, and part of the 
road was a steep uphill. I used all my strength, but I 
could not get on, and was obliged continually to stop. 
This did not please my driver, and he laid his whip on 
badly. “ Get on, you lazy fellow,” he said, “ or I’ll make 
you.” 

Again I started the heavy load and struggled on a few 
yards ; again the whip came down, and again I struggled 
forward. The pain of that great cart whip was sharp, but 

( 185 ) 


186 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


my mind was hurt quite as much as my poor sides. To 
be punished and abused when I was doing my very best 
was so hard it took the heart out of me. A third time he 
was flogging me cruelly when a lady stepped quickly up 
to him and said, in a sweet, earnest voice : 

“Oh! pray do not whip your good horse anymore; I 
am sure he is doing all he can, and the road is very steep; 
I am sure he is doing his best.” 

“ If doing his best won’t get this load up, he must do 
something more than his best; that’s all I know, ma’am,” 
said Jakes. 

“ But is it not a heavy load ?” she said. 

“ Yes, yes, too heavy,” he said ; “ but that’s not my fault ; 
the foreman came just as we were starting, and would 
have three hundred-weight more put on to save him 
trouble, and I must get on with it as well as I can.” 

He was raising the whip again, when the lady said : 

“ Pray, stop ; I think I can help you if you will let me.” 

The man laughed. 

“ You see,” she said, “ you do not give him a fair chance ; 
he cannot use his power with his head back as it is with 
that check-rein ; if you would take it off, I am sure he 
would do better — do try it,” she said, persuasively. “ I 
should be very glad if you would.” 

“ Well, well,” said Jakes, with a short laugh, “ anything 
to please a lady, of course. How far would you wish it 
down, ma’am ?” 

“ Quite down ; give him his head altogether.” 

The rein was taken off, and in a moment I put my head 
down to my very knees. What a comfort it was ! Then 
I tossed it up and down several times to get the aching 
stiffness out of my neck. 

“ Poor fellow ! that is what you wanted,” said she, pat- 
ting and stroking me with her gentle hand ; “ and now if 
you will speak kindly to him and lead him on, I believe 
he will be able to do better.” 


JAKES AND THE LADY. 


187 


Jakes took the rein. “ Come on, Blackie.” I put clown 
my head and threw my whole weight against the collar ; 
I spared no strength; the load moved on, and I pulled it 
steadily up the hill, and then stopped to take breath. 

The lady had walked along the footpath, and now came 
across into the road. She stroked and patted my neck as 
I had not been patted for many a long day. 

“ You see he was quite willing when you gave him the 
chance ; I am sure he is a fine-tempered creature, and I 
dare say has known better days. You won’t put that 
rein on again, will you?” for he was just going to hitch it 
up on the old plan. 

“Well, ma’am, I can’t deny that having his head has 
helped him up the hill, and I’ll remember it another 
time, and thank you, ma’am ; but if he went without a 
check-rein I should be the laughing-stock of all the cart- 
ers; it is the fashion, you see.” 

“ Is it not better,” she said, “to lead a good fashion than 
to follow a bad one ? A great many gentlemen do not use 
check-reins now; our carriage horses have not worn them 
for fifteen years, and work with much less fatigue than 
those who have them ; besides,” she added in a very serious 
voice, “ we have no right to distress any of God’s creatures 
without a very good reason; we call them dumb animals, 
and so they are, for they cannot tell us how they feel, but 
they do not suffer less because they have no words. But 
I must not detain you now; I thank you for trying my 
plan with your good horse, and I am sure you will find 
it far better than the whip. Good-day,” and with another 
soft pat on my neck she stepped lightly across the path, 
and I saw her no more. 

“ That was a real lady. I’ll be bound for it,” said Jakes 
to himself; “she spoke just as polite as if I was a gentle- 
man, and I’ll try her plan, uphill, at any rate;” and I 
must do him the* justice to say that he let my rein out 
several holes, and going uphill after that he always gave 


188 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


me my head ; but the heavy loads went on. Good feed 
and fair rest will keep up one’s strength under full work; 
but no horse can stand against overloading , and I was get- 
ting so thoroughly pulled down from this cause that a 
younger horse was bought in my place. I may as well 
mention here what I suffered at this time from another 
cause. I had heard horses speak of it, but had never 
myself had experience of the evil; this was a bndly-lighted 
stable ; there was only one very small window at the end, 
and the consequence was that the stalls were almost dark. 

Besides the depressing effect this had on my spirits, it 
very much weakened my sight, and when I was suddenly 
brought out of the darkness into the glare of daylight it 
was very painful to my eyes. Several times I stumbled 
over the threshold, and could scarcely see where I was 
going. 

I believe , had I stayed there very long , I should have become 
purblind, and that would have been a great misfortune, for 
I have heard men say that a stone-blind horse was safer 
to drive than one which had imperfect sight, as it gene- 
rally makes them very timid. However, I escaped with- 
out any permanent injury to my sight, and was sold to a 
large cab owner. 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

HARD TIMES. 

I shall never forget my new master; he had black 
eyes and a hooked nose, his mouth was as full of teeth as 
a bull dog’s, and his voice was as harsh as the grinding 
of cart wheels over gravel stones. His name was Nicholas 
Skinner, and I believe he was the same man that poor 
Seedy Sam drove for. 


HARD TIMES. 


189 


I have heard men say that seeing is believing, but I 
should say that feeling is believing; for much as I had 
seen before, I never knew until now the utter misery of a 
cab horse’s life. 

Skinner had a low set of cabs and a low set of drivers ; 
he was hard on the men, and the men were hard on the 
horses. In this place we had no Sunday rest, and it was 
in the heat of summer. 

Sometimes on a Sunday morning a party of fast men 
would hire the cab for the day, four of them inside and 
another with the driver, and I had to take them ten or 
fifteen miles out into the country and back again ; never 
would any of them get down to walk up a hill , let it be ever 
so steep, or the day ever so hot — unless, indeed, when the 
driver was afraid I should not manage it, and sometimes I 
was so fevered and worn that I could hardly touch my 
food. How I used to long for the nice bran mash with 
nitre in it that Jerry used to give us on Saturday nights 
in hot weather, that used to cool us down and make us so 
comfortable. Then we had two nights and a whole day 
for unbroken rest, and on Monday morning we were as 
fresh as young horses again ; but here there was no rest, 
and my driver w r a,s just as hard as his master. He had a 
cruel whip with something so sharp at the end that it 
sometimes drew blood, and he would even whip me under 
the belly, and flip the lash out at my head. Indignities 
like these took the heart out of me terribly, but still I did 
my best and never hung back, for, as poor Ginger said, it 
was no use; men are the strongest. 

My life was now so utterly wretched that I wished I 
might, like Ginger, drop down dead at my work, and be 
out of my misery, and one day my wish very nearly came 
to pass. 

I went on the stand at eight in the morning, and had 
done a good share of work, when we had to take a fare to 
the railway. A long train was just expected in, so my 


190 


BLACK BEAUTY . 


driver pulled up at the back of some of the outside cabs, 
to take the chance of a return fare. It was a very heavy 
train, and as all the cabs were soon engaged, ours was 
called for. There was a party of four ; a noisy, blustering 
man with a lady, a little boy, and a young girl, and a great 
deal of luggage. The lady and the boy got into the cab, 
and while the man ordered about the luggage, the young 
girl came and looked at me. 

“ Papa,” she said, “ I am sure this poor horse cannot 
take us and all our luggage so far, he is so very weak and 
worn out; do look at him.” 

“ Oh ! he’s all right, miss,” said my driver; “he’s strong 
enough.” 

The porter, who was pulling about some heavy boxes, 
suggested to the gentleman, as there was so much luggage, 
that he had better take a second cab. 

“ Can your horse do it, or can’t he?” said the blustering 
man. 

“ Oh ! he can do it all right, sir ; send up the boxes, 
porter ; he could take more than that,” and he helped to 
haul up a box so heavy that I could feel the springs go 
down. 

“Papa, papa, do take a second cab,” said the young 
girl in a beseeching tone ; “ I am sure we are wrong, I am 
sure it is very cruel.” 

“ Nonsense, Grace ; get in at once, and don’t make all 
this fuss; a pretty thing it would be if a man of business 
had to examine every cab-horse before he hired it— the 
man knows his own business of course ; there, get in and 
hold your tongue!” 

My gentle friend had to obey ; and box after box was 
dragged up and lodged on the top of the cab, or settled by 
the side of the driver. At last all was ready, and with his 
usual jerk at the rein, and slash of the whip, he drove out 
of the station. 

The load was very heavy, and I had had neither food 


HARD TIMES. 


191 


nor rest since morning ; but I did my best, as I always 
had done, in spite of cruelty and injustice. 

I got along fairly till we came to Ludgate Hill, but there 
the heavy load and my own exhaustion were too much. 
I was struggling to keep on, goaded by constant chucks 
of the rein and use of the whip, when, in a single moment 
— I cannot tell how — my feet slipped from under me, and 
I fell heavily to the ground on my side; the suddenness 
and the force with which I fell seemed to beat all the 
breath out of my body. I lay perfectly still; indeed, I 
had no power to move, and I thought now I was going to 
die. I heard a sort of confusion round me, loud angry 
voices, and the getting down of the luggage, but it was all 
like a dream. I thought I heard that sweet, pitiful voice 
saying, u Oh ! that poor horse! it is all our fault.” Some 
one came and loosened the throat strap of my bridle, and 
undid the traces which kept the collar so tight upon me. 
Some one said, “ He’s dead, he’ll never get up again.” 
Then I could hear a policeman giving orders, but I did 
not even open my eyes; I could only draw a gasping 
breath now and then. Some cold water was thrown over 
my head, and some cordial was poured into my mouth, 
and something was covered over me. I cannot tell how 
long I lay there, but I found my life coming back, and a 
kind- voiced man was patting me and encouraging me to 
rise. After some more cordial had been given me, and 
after one or two attempts, I staggered to my feet, and was 
gently led to some stables which were close by. Here I 
was put into a well-littered stall, and some warm gruel was 
brought to me, which I drank thankfully. 

In the evening I was sufficiently recovered to be led 
back to Skinner’s stables, where I think they did the best 
for me they could. In the morning Skinner came with a 
farrier to look at me. He examined me very closely, and 
said, — 

“ This is a case of overwork more than disease, and if 


192 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


you could give him a run off for six months, he would be 
able to work again; but now there is not an ounce of 
strength in him.” 

“ Then he must just go to the dogs,’’ said Skinner. “ I 
have no meadows to nurse sick horses in — he might get 
well or he might not; that sort of thing don’t suit my 
business ; my plan is to work ’em as long as they’ll go , and then 
sell' em for what they’ll fetch at the knacker’s or elsewhere.” 

“ If he was broken-winded,” said the farrier, “ you had 
better have him killed out of hand, but he is not; there 
is a sale of horses coming off in about ten days ; if you 
rest him and feed him up, he may pick up, and you may 
get more than his skin is worth, at any rate.” 

Upon this advice, Skinner, rather unwillingly, I think, 
gave orders that I should be well fed and cared for, and 
the stableman, happily for me, carried out the orders with 
a much better will than his master had in giving them. 
Ten days of perfect rest, plenty of good oats, hay, bran 
mashes, with boiled linseed mixed in them, did more to 
get up my condition than anything else could have done; 
those linseed mashes were delicious, and I began to think, 
after all, it might be better to live than to go to the dogs. 
When the twelfth day after the accident came, I was taken 
to the sale, a few miles out of London. I felt that any 
change from my present place must be an improvement, 
so I held up my head, and hoped for the best. 


CHAPTER XLVIII. 

FARMER THOROUGHGOOD AND HIS GRANDSON WILLIE. 

At this sale, of course, I found myself in company with 
the old broken-down horses — some lame, some broken- 





Coming Out to Hear How I Behaved Myself. 
















FARMER THOROUGHGOOD AND HIS GRANDSON WILLIE. 193 


winded, some old, and some that I am sure it would have 
been merciful to shoot. 

The buyers, and sellers too, many of them, looked not 
much better off than the poor beasts they were bargain- 
ing about. There were poor old men trying to get a 
horse or pony for a few pounds, that might drag about 
some little wood or coal cart. There were poor men try- 
ing to sell a worn-out beast for two or three pounds, rather 
than have the greater loss of killing him. Some of them 
looked as if poverty and hard times had hardened them 
all over ; but there were others that I would have willing^ 
used the last of my strength in serving ; poor and shabby, 
but kind and humane, with voices that I could trust. 
There was one tottering old man that took a great fancy 
to me, and I to him, but I was not strong enough — it was 
an anxious time ! Coming from the better part of the fair, 
I noticed a man who looked like a gentleman farmer, with 
a young boy by his side; he had a broad back and round 
shoulders, a kind, ruddy face, and he wore a broad- 
brimmed hat. When he came up to me and my com- 
panions he stood still and gave a pitiful look round upon 
us. I saw his eye rest on me ; I had still a good mane 
and tail, which did something for my appearance. I 
I pricked my ears and looked at him. 

“ There’s a horse,” said Willie, “ that has known better 
days.” 

“ Poor old fellow !” said the boy ; “ do you think, grand- 
papa, he was ever a carriage horse?” 

“Oh, yes! my boy,” said the farmer, coming closer, 
“ he might have been anything when he was young; look 
at his nostrils and his ears, the shape of his neck and 
shoulder ; there’s a deal of breeding about that horse.” 
He put out his hand and gave me a kind pat on the neck. 
I put out my nose in answer to his kindness; the boy 
Stroked my face. 

“ Poor old fellow ! see, grandpapa, how well he under- 
13 


194 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


stands kindness. Could not you buy him and make him 
young again as you did with Ladybird ?” 

“ My dear boy, 1 can’t make all old horses young ; be- 
sides. Ladybird was not so very old, as she was run down 
and badly used.” 

“ Well, grandpapa, I don’t believe that this one is old; 
look at his mane and tail. I wish you would look into 
his mouth, and then’ you could tell ; though he is so very 
thin, his eyes are not sunk like some old horses’.” 

The old gentleman laughed. “ Bless the boy ! he is as 
horsey as his old grandfather.” 

“ But do look at his mouth, grandpapa, and ask the 
price; I am sure he would grow young in our meadows.” 

The man who had brought me for sale now put in his 
word. 

“ The young gentleman’s a real knowing one, sir. Now 
the fact is, this ’ere hoss is just pulled down with over- 
work in the cabs; he’s not an old one, and I heard as how 
the vetenary should say that a six months’ run off would 
set him right up, being as how his wind was not broken. 
I’ve had the tending of him these ten days past, and a 
gratefuller, pleasanter animal I never met with, and ’twould 
be worth a gentleman’s while to give a five-pound note for 
him and let him have a chance. I’ll be bound he’d be 
worth twenty pounds next spring.” 

The old gentleman laughed, and the little boy looked 
up eagerly. 

u Oh, grandpapa, did you not say the colt sold for five 
pounds more than you expected? You would not be 
poorer if you did buy this one.” 

The farmer slowly felt my legs, which were much 
swelled and strained; then he looked at my mouth. 
“Thirteen or fourteen, I should say; just trot him out, 
will you?” 

I arched friy poor thin neck, raised my tail a little, threw 
out my legs as well as I could, for they were very stiff. 


FARMER THOROUGHGOOD AND 1IIS GRANDSON WILLIE. 195 

“ What is the lowest you will take for him ?” said the 
farmer as I came back. 

“ Five pounds, sir ; that was the lowest price my master 
set.” v 

“ ’Tis a speculation,” said the old gentleman, shaking 
his head, but at the same time slowly drawing out his 
purse, “ quite a speculation ! Have you any more busi- 
ness here ?” he said, counting the sovereigns into his hand. 

“ No, sir; I can take him for you to the inn, if you please.” 

“ Do so ; I am now going there.” 

They walked forward, and I was led behind. The boy 
could hardly control his delight, and the old gentleman 
seemed to enjoy his pleasure. I had a good feed at the 
inn, and was then gently ridden home by a servant of my 
new master’s, and turned into a large meadow with a shed 
in one corner of it. 

Mr. Thoroughgood, for that was the name of my bene- 
factor, gave orders that I should have hay and oats every 
night and morning, and the run of the meadow during the 
day; and, “you, Willie,” said he, “must take the over- 
sight of him; I give him in charge to you.” „ 

The boy was proud of his charge, and undertook it in 
all seriousness. There was not a day when he did not pay 
me a visit; sometimes picking me out from among the 
other horses and giving me a bit of carrot, or something 
good, or sometimes standing by me while I ate my oats. 
He always came with kind words and caresses, and of 
course I grew very fond of him. He called me Old Crony; 
as I used to come to him in the field and follow him about. 
Sometimes he brought his grandfather, who always looked 
closely at my legs. 

“ This is our point, Willie,” he would say ; “but he is 
improving so steadily that I think we shall see a change 
for the better in the spring.” 

The perfect rest, the good food, the soft turf and gen- 
tle exercise soon began to tell on my condition and my 


196 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


spirits. I had a good constitution from my mother and 
I was never strained when I was young, so that I had a 
better chance than many horses who have been worked 
before they came to their full strength. During the win- 
ter my legs improved so much that I began to feel quite 
young again. The spring came around, and one day in 
March Mr. Thoroughgood determined that he would try 
me in the phaeton. I was well pleased, and lie and Wil- 
lie drove me a few miles. My legs were not stiff now, and 
I did the work with perfect ease. 

“ He’s growing young, Willie; we must give him a lit- 
tle gentle work now, and by midsummer he will be as 
good as Ladybird. He has a beautiful mouth and good 
paces; they can’t be better.” 

“ Oh, grandpapa, how glad I am you bought him !” 

“ So am I, my boy ; but he has to thank you more than 
me ; we must now be looking out for a quiet, genteel place 
for him, where he will be valued.” 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

MY LAST HOME. 

One day, during this summer, the groom cleaned and 
dressed me with such extraordinary care that I thought 
some new change must be at hand ; he trimmed my fetlocks 
and legs, passed the tarbrush over my hoofs, and even 
parted my forelock. I think the harness had an extra 
polish. Willie seemed anxious, half-merry, as he got into 
the chaise with his grandfather. 

“ If the ladies take to him,” said the old gentleman, 
“ they’ll be suited and he’ll be suited ; we can but try.” 

At the distance of a mile or two from the village we 
came to a pretty, low house, with a lawn and shrubbery 


MY LAST HOME. 


197 


at the front and a drive up to the door. Willie rang the 
bell and asked if Miss Blomefield or Miss Ellen was at 
home. Yes, they were. So, while Willie stayed with me, 
Mr. Thoroughgood went into the house. In about ten 
minutes he returned, followed by three ladies ; one tall, 
pale lady, wrapped in a white shawl, leaned on a younger 
lady, with dark eyes and a merry face ; the other, a very 
stately-looking person, was Miss Blomefield. They all 
came and looked at me and asked questions. The young 
lady — that was Miss Ellen — took to me very much; she 
said she was sure she would like me, I had such a good 
face. The tall, pale lady said she should always be ner- 
vous in riding behind a horse that had once been down, 
as I might come down again, and if I did she should never 
get over the fright. 

“You see, ladies,” said Mr. Thoroughgood, “ many first- 
rate horses have had their knees broken through the care- 
lessness of their drivers, without any fault of their own, 
and from what I see of this horse I should say that is his 
case; but, of course, I do not wish to influence you. If 
you incline, you can have him on trial, and then your 
coachman will see what he thinks of him.” 

“ You have always been such a good adviser to us about 
our horses,” said the stately lady, “that your recommen- 
dation would go a long way with me, and if my sister 
Lavinia sees no objection, we will accept your offer of a 
trial, with thanks.” 

It was then arranged that I should be sent for the next 
day. 

In the morning a smart-looking young man came for 
me; at first he looked pleased; but when he saw my 
knees he said, in a disappointed voice : 

“ I didn’t think, sir, you would have recommended my 
ladies a blemished horse like that.” 

“ ‘ Handsome is that handsome does,’ ” said my mas- 
ter : “ you are only taking him on trial, and I am sure 


198 


BLACK BEAUTY. 


you will do fairly by him, young man ; if he is not as safe 
as any horse you ever drove, send him back.” 

I was led to my new home, placed in a comfortable 
stable, fed, and left to myself. The next day, when my 
groom was cleaning my face, he said, — 

“That is just like the star that ‘Black Beauty’ had; 
he is much the same height, too ; I wonder where he is 
now ?” 

A little further on he came to the place in my neck 
where I was bled, and where a little knot was left in the 
skin. He almost started, and began to look me over care- 
fully, talking to himself. 

“ White star in the forehead, one white foot on the off 
side, this little knot just in that place then looking at the 
middle of my back — “ and as I am alive, there is that little 
patch of white hair that John used to call ‘ Beauty’s three- 
penny bit.’ It must be ‘ Black Beauty !’ Why, Beauty! 
Beauty! do you know me? little Joe Green, that almost 
killed you ?” And he began patting and patting me as 
if he was quite overjoyed. 

I could not say that I remembered him, for now he was 
a fine grown young fellow, with black whiskers and a 
man’s voice, but I was sure he knew me, and that he was 
Joe Green, and I was very glad. I put my nose up to 
him and tried to say that we were friends. I never saw a 
man so pleased. 

“ Give you a fair trial ! I should think so indeed ! I 
wonder who the rascal was that broke your knees, my old 
Beauty! You must have been badly served out some- 
where. Well, well, it won’t be my fault if you haven’t 
good times of it now. I wish John Manly was here to 
see you.” 

In the afternoon I was put into a low Park chair and 
brought to the door. Miss Ellen was going to try me, and 
Green went with her. I soon found that she was a good 
driver, and she seemed pleased with my paces. I heard 


MY LAST HOME. 


199 


Joe telling her about me, and that he was sure I was 
Squire Gordon’s old “ Black Beauty.” 

When we returned the other sisters came out to hear how 
I had behaved myself. She told them what she had just 
heard, and said, — 

“ I shall certainly write to Mrs. Gordon and tell her 
that her favorite horse has come to us. How pleased she 
will be.” 

After this I was driven every day for a week or so, and 
as I appeared to be quite safe, Miss Lavinia at last ven- 
tured out in the small close carriage. After this it was 
quite decided to keep me and call me by my old name 
of “ Black Beauty.” 

I have now lived in this happy place a whole year. 




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